Where You Tend a Rose
by Sarah Liza Parker
Summary: Rose Tyler sits at her home with her parents alone in the summer of 1921, until she discovers her father's friend is a bit more interesting than she previously thought.
1. A New Gentleman in Town

Listen to: "In Flight" by Michael Harrison or "Thou Swell" by Bix Beiderbecke

* * *

"'Where you tend a rose my lad, a thistle cannot grow'"

Frances Hodgson Burnett from _The Secret Garden_

* * *

**_Chapter I: A New Gentleman in Town_**

* * *

To say Rose Tyler frequented the matches at the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club was a preposterous falsehood-mostly based on the fact that Rose actually despised everything about them. It was so horribly hot during the summer time, especially during the two week period where they held the Wimbledon Championships. Rose could never claim she enjoyed the sight of a yellow ball being obnoxiously swatted across a thin net over and over and over again for hours upon hours. So, Rose stood with her dad and mum where the audience hovered on the lawn, with her silly, frilly hat blocking the sun from her squinting eyes.

A match was called by the judge, and Rose could not help but sigh and attempt to fan herself with her hand.

"You know, I don't really see all of the fuss about Suzanne Lenglen in my opinion. She's actually hideous," Rose's mum, Jackie, rambled loudly.

Pete Tyler dismissed Jackie with ease, saying: "Sports aren't about appearances, this isn't the theatre. These women aren't actresses; they're _athletes_. With two past wins under her belt and a golden Olympic trophy, of course there's a fuss."

"Well, I'm just saying, her nose is rather odd," she shrugged in response, beginning to copy Rose in fanning herself, while Rose's father drew out a handkerchief to wipe his brow under his panama hat.

"Maybe it's 'cause she's French, mum," Rose smirked, eying the way Suzanne Lenglen leapt across the court with grace.

Jackie scoffed without any sort of tact. "I've seen many beautiful French women in my years. She's just ugly."

Rose could only roll her eyes at her mother in that moment.

#

"Rose, I want to introduce you to someone you might find very interesting!" Rose heard her mother loudly twang from behind her.

Rose let out a sigh as she let her mother forcefully turn her around by the bend of her arm.

"This is Mr. Jack Harkness. He works in Cardiff!"

Standing beside her mum was a tall gentleman in a very modern suit with pant cuffs. A homburg hat was in his right hand, and Rose noticed he had a quite handsome face with casual brown hair.

Mr. Harkness took Rose's gloved right hand in his left and bent down to gently kiss it, making her sigh inwardly.

Rose was accustomed to her mother bringing suitor upon suitor to her. While she was only nineteen, Jackie took it upon herself to nudge Rose along her path as a future house-wife. Sure, with her dad's fortune from his wireless company she could just simply sit at home with her parents the rest of her life, but it was expected for her, as for any woman, to marry. And, as Jackie and Pete's only child, she would be their only hope for the family tree to keep on.

There was nothing particularly wrong with Mr. Harkness, the more Rose analyzed him. He had almost a blue-grey eye colour that really stood out against his dark hair and suit, and he looked at her with an amused crooked grin that made her feel more at ease with the encounter, yet, just like all of the others, he was certainly not right for her in any way shape or form. He was too built in the shoulders, indicating he actively exercised…something Rose had never understood in people. The way his hair was cut and styled felt almost military in a way, even going towards law enforcement-a big turn-off for Rose seeing as she was raised by a man who never trusted the government or any of its branches. The list could go on for ages: too big of a chin dimple, lips too cold, hands too firm, too charismatic in the face (oh he would be an adulterer, Rose could already tell that).

Jackie Tyler stood with her hand on Mr. Harkness' arm, grinning expectantly at Rose as he almost seductively let Rose's hand glide back down to her side. "Cardiff you say?" Rose asked, feigning any sort of curiosity or interest in the man. "What do you do there?"

"Oh you know," Mr. Harkness shrugged, speaking in a Yankee accent, "this and that mostly. Whatever comes my way." _Yes_, Rose thought with a raised chin, _he is most certainly in a secret government agency, probably only interested in me to get to my dad's finances_ _and ventures, the sly military-man_.

"And how is that going? Is what and where something you also do?" Rose quipped in return, making Jackie grow furious with her daughter while Mr. Harkness let out a laugh.

Her face red with embarrassment, Rose's mum hush-whispered: "Rose!"

Still chuckling to himself, he comfortingly patted Mrs. Tyler on the hand. "Yes, it just so happens I do do this and that, and what and where, and it and then."

While Jackie tried to laugh off her mortification and discomfiture with her daughter, Rose narrowed her eyes at Mr. Harkness while fixing her hat, irritated that he rebounded so quickly to her comment towards him. "Well, I am not allowed to partake in anything of that sort, so how unfortunate for me," she countered.

This time, Jackie loudly exclaimed her name in disapproval of her daughter, instead of bothering to whisper.

All Mr. Harkness responded with was a laugh and a: "Yes, unfortunate indeed", irking Rose further.

#

The car ride back to their large estate in Bromley, a town situated at the most southern tip of Greater London, was a taciturn affair that consisted of Rose sitting in the backseat in between her father and her mother, who took it upon herself to openly glower at Rose, making Pete rather uncomfortable.

"So," Pete started, cutting through the silence of the car, "I take it you're upset with Rose, dear."

"Oh, very," Rose's mum snapped back, crossing her arms.

Her dad nodded, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation. After a few moments, he continued. "Rose, do you have anything you want to say to your mother?"

"Dad, stick your nose somewhere else," Rose said coolly.

"Sure, alright."

At that, any self-control that was holding Jackie Tyler back from spilling her thoughts was lifted as she suddenly burst out: "Rose I cannot believe you humiliated me like that! Mr. Harkness showed genuine interest in you and you treated him like the sole of your boots! You cannot even imagine how embarrassing it was for me to attempt and excuse your behavior to him!"

At around Rose's age of fifteen or sixteen, her mum began the ongoing act of introducing a never-ending supply of suitors to her. At first, Rose was grateful for a mum who was completely comfortable introducing a sixteen year old girl to a man in his mid thirties, but by the tenth suitor after only a few months, she grew tired and irritated. The men never seemed to stop, and they never seemed to diverge from the others. They were all the same to her, and Mr. Harkness was no exception. He was tall, handsome, had a steady (yet suspicious) job-i.e., the perfect man for Rose in Jackie's eyes.

"You know, mum, you wouldn't have to if you just would ever leave me alone! Always introducing me to a new bloke every week-" she fired back. Making her voice all sharp and strident in an attempt to mimic Jackie, Rose continued her tirade with: "-Here, Rose, look at Mr. soandso, isn't he splendid? Oh look, Rose, Mr. whatshisface, he has three cars you know!"

"Oi! I don't sound anything like that!"

Rose huffed, "You're always bothering me about getting married and settling down! But, I'm bloody nineteen years old! I think sometimes you forget that!"

"You know, Rose, when I was your age-" Jackie began, making Rose groan and jiggle her knees in annoyance. "-I was already married and had you. And you're just sitting at home doing nothing with your life."

"Alright, mum! You tell me what I'm supposed to do with my life! What do you want me to do? Huh? I'm listening!"

Her mum straightened her back and held her head up a bit higher, a bit taken aback by Rose's easy submission. "I want you to get married, of course."

Rose huffed cruelly and shook her head, "Well, you better get comfy with me then, because married life is not suited for me-especially to a man who is about as original as the King of England himself."

Appalled and utterly flabbergasted, Jackie Tyler spent the rest of the ride back home fanning herself while Rose sat quite content with herself.

#

When the family friend, Dr. Smith, arrived that afternoon in search of Pete, Rose was propped up on her side on a lounge chair by the pool in the back of the house. Wearing a dark swimsuit with a light robe on top and a patterned head scarf, she flipped through a dated issue of _Vogue_ with a bored look upon her face.

After arriving home, Jackie had promptly left again, presumably to go shopping in London (something she would regularly do when upset about something as unimportant as Rose's love life). This left Rose and her father alone. Her father and she had always had a fairly healthy relationship. Pete often had troubles identifying with his daughter, mostly because her life was so much different than his. He could not discuss politics, economics, work, or anything of the sorts with her because Rose would so easily dismiss his conversation as boring small talk only businessmen like himself participated in. But, whenever he attempted to get into her magazines or music or recent hairdos, she would laugh at him and tell him he was too old to even vaguely understand what "trendy" was. So, as soon as Pete and Rose were left alone, Pete made a hasty excuse and fled the room, leaving her (as always) alone.

Rose had never had many mates who she could spend time with. Sure, she had school mates back when she attended, but after school ended most of them got married and moved away, or went on to become nurses or schoolteachers or secretaries (professions identified with women). Rose decided then and there she would never settle for a monotonous job that was catered to privileged white women, who were unable to find husbands. So, she spent her days either following her mother around, or trying to pass the time by looking through magazines or listening to records she had accumulated over the years (her favourite record to listen to at that moment "Ain't We Got Fun", making her family tired of it quickly).

Rose heard light footsteps come out onto the patio, making her raise her eyebrows. "Yes?" she asked.

She heard a man's voice say: "Ms. Tyler?"

Not even bothering to look up from her magazine, she sighed. "Hello, Doctor. I don't know where my dad is. I presume he's left."

"Ah," Rose heard from the Doctor, followed by a pregnant awkward silence.

At this, she decided to look up from her magazine, seeing the ever lanky Dr. Smith (the Doctor of what sort she actually had no idea) with his blue pin-striped suit that was horribly out of fashion, soiled trainers, thin glasses, and wild hair style (he never ever wore hats despite the fact that everybody wore hats) that made him look like a man lost in another world. The more Rose thought about how long she had known the Doctor for, she could not recall him ever changing in a significant way. Well, he used to wear a brown suit, but other than that…well, he hadn't aged. One day, she actually asked him about it and he shrugged it off, assuming it was because he was not married and had no children, living a stress free life as a librarian at the British Museum in central London. Dr. Smith and Rose's dad had met at Oxford University; they had been mates for more than twenty years, so, it could be said that she was used to seeing the Doctor's face around.

"I'm sorry, did you need something?" Rose asked him, confused on why he still stood a few metres away from her, gazing around the backyard with a peculiar look on his face. Jackie's mum had always thought he was completely nutters, something Pete had denied and attempted to explain that he just spent too much time alone by himself, making Jackie nod and reply with 'yes, he is completely bonkers, that bloke.'

Grasping the books he held under his arm a bit tighter, Dr. Smith looked at Rose with a distracted glaze upon himself. "Ah, uhm, no…no, I just wanted to drop by and see how the Wimbledon was, that's all. If your dad isn't here I can come back, perhaps tomorrow…" He squinted a bit and thought long and hard. "Yes, tomorrow would be splendid, I don't have much going on tomorrow, I believe."

The Doctor turned to leave the patio, and Rose bit her lip, contemplating very hard. She was certainly bored out of her mind, and how often did she get an opportunity to talk to someone other than her housekeeper or her mum?..almost never, unless her parents hosted a party or gathering. Rose quickly closed her magazine and sat up in the lounge chair. "I'll tell you how it was…positively miserable."

A smirk escaped the Doctor's mouth while faced away from Rose before he turned around to again look at her. "Oh? Really? Why?"

"It was hot and boring and everyone there talked about things that were unfamiliar to me," she complained, yet secretly enjoying the fact that he was interested in her conversation.

The Doctor grinned kindly at her. "What did they all talk about?"

"Tennis and stuff," Rose shrugged.

"Rose, I believe it was a tennis match, was it not?" an amused Dr. Smith replied.

Teasingly, she rested her head on her hand. "Oh, sod off."

He shrugged and said: "Okay," before turning back around and taking a few steps in the opposite direction.

Rose hurriedly gathered herself, and the ends of her robe, up from the chair and held out her hand in a stopping gesture. "Wait!"

The Doctor froze, and once again smirked, but still did not turn back around.

"What books do you have there?" Rose inquired, nervously playing with the belt on her swimsuit.

"I didn't know you read academics, Ms. Tyler," he stated, turning back around.

Embarrassed then, Rose begun to stutter: "I-uh-no, well, I don't really-"

Laughing, the Doctor walked swiftly towards Rose and pushed the books he had into her empty hands. "Oh, don't be silly, Rose, you know me better than that. What's the fun in reading books that are true when you can read books that aren't?"

Studying the books in her hands, she began to sort through them, looking at the all of titles. _The Time Machine, Around the World in 80 Days, _and _The First Men in the Moon_ were the books he had had slung underneath his arms carelessly. Face red, Rose softly uttered: "I..I've never heard of any of these. I'm sorry, I wasn't taught-"

"Important things?" he finished for her, adjusting his glasses.

"I was taught how to cook, how to clean, how to raise children ….but I've never read anything other than the Bible or a textbook," she rambled. "How embarrassing is that? A nineteen year old woman who's never read a book for fun."

The Doctor suddenly grew excited and jittering jumping up and down and smiling widely at Rose. "Never read a book for fun? How incredible! Just think, Rose! I've read every book in the entire world!"

"Every book in the whole world?" Rose interjected in disbelief.

Ignoring her, he continued: "I've read all of those books in your hands, Rose, and I will never get to read those books ever again for the first time. I know how they all end, and you don't! How wonderful it is to be you! You get to learn how they all end for the first time!"

Confused at his enthusiasm, Rose nervously laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess."

Growing quite serious, he held out his hands and sternly demanded: "Now, give those back right quick."

Having forgotten she was holding the books, Rose looked down at her arms, seeing the jumble of books in them. She had assumed he was going to let her borrow them, but obviously he did not believe she was capable of reading the kinds of things a smart, _doctor_ read. Bowing her head and blinking back tears she mumbled: "Oh, right, sorry, I forgot I had them, Doctor." She jutted out the books towards him. "Here."

The Doctor smacked his hand onto his forehead roughly after he noticed Rose's long face, making her jump-startled by the loud noise. "Oh, I'm so rude, I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you that I'm going to get you better books." He snatched the books from her hands and made a point of tossing them behind him, leaving them scattered on the cemented patio. "You don't want those, those are _my_ picks. You'll have your own picks: books that speak to you."

At this, Rose's shoulders immediately perked back up. "Really? You'll bring me books?"

"Sure! Maybe someday you can come to the library and pick out your own!"

Rose clasped her hands together and grinned wide. "That sounds like something I've never done before! What kinds of books do you have?"

"Rose Tyler, I had everything you can dream of: action, essays, adventure, romance, comedy, erotica, historical, textbooks, biographies, dictionaries, science fiction, fantasy, crime, horror, fairytales, thrillers, encyclopedias, periodicals…" Dr. Smith relayed to a liberated Rose who was jubilated at the thought of doing something different during her long days. "Rose Tyler," he continued on, "I should warn you-you're gonna read about all sorts of things. Ghosts of the past. Aliens of the future. The day the Earth died in a ball of flame…"

"You know, Doctor, instead of warning me, I really should be warning you," Rose advised him, taking a slow step forward.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, now baffled. "Of what?" he asked, eying her suspiciously.

Rose let out a laugh-a good giggle that stuck her tongue in-between her teeth-and then she pointed to his books that still lay on the patio. "Your books?" she chuckled as he whirled around and hastily picked them up off the cement, checking to make sure they were alright.

"I was making a point, Rose Tyler," he exclaimed, breathy. "It's gonna be a trip of a lifetime, you see. Reading can take you anywhere."

Rose grinned and wrapped her robe tighter around her figure, noticing the way Dr. Smith's attention quickly went from her face down to where her hands tugged on the material. "Then you better come back with my books then."

"But what are you interested in reading?" he inquired, his eyes going back up to meet hers.

Rose walked a few steps back and slowly sat down on the edge of the lounge chair, crossing her legs. She rested her head on her palm and looked up at his face marked by uncertainty. "I want the journey of a lifetime."

#

The next few days at the library in the museum were very difficult for the Doctor, for the fact that he could not figure out what would please Ms. Tyler the most. Any appropriate man, who did not spend his nights remembering that Ms. Tyler was in fact his best mate's daughter, would have found a few books for her in about twenty minutes and that would have been the end of it. But, as days went by, he felt an itching to pick out the books that would have the most effect on her. He didn't want to choose books that he thought she would like; he wanted to give her books that contained her _dreams_.

This task was unimaginably difficult and after the fourth day's closing, the Doctor grew frustrated, and began to tear through the circular dome, throwing books off the shelves as he eliminated their chance of pleasing Ms. Tyler in his mind. He plucked one book off of the shelf and bent his arm to throw it over his shoulder, but caught the sight of the title and his arm froze, bringing it back to in front of him.

_The Secret Garden_

Frances Hodgson Burnett

The library began carrying the book solely because of Burnett's other novel's successes, but, it was on the slate to be removed because of the fact that hardly no one every checked the book out. This book was children's literature, which made the Doctor unsure of how Ms. Tyler would respond to him giving her a book meant for little boys and girls. Would it come off as an insult to her comprehensibility? But, he had read this book before, and he felt in love with it by the very first line of the work:

_When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen._

Such a strong voice for a children's author, it reminded him of Ms. Tyler.

Yes, he would present her with this, he decided, and hoped she would like it.

#

Rose Tyler sat on the sofa in the sitting room, lit by electric lighting, as one of the house keepers hurried to finish the dusting. She sighed and twiddled with her thumbs.

"Sophia?" Rose asked, rolling her head back in forth in boredom.

"Yes, Miss?" the house keeper answered, not ceasing her work.

Turning to gaze out of the large windows, Rose noticed how pitch dark it had become. Dinner was usually held much earlier, during the long days of the summer. "When will dinner be ready? It's already half eight."

Sophia was now dusting the clock that sat above the fireplace. "I was told we were waiting for our guest, who's scheduled to arrive at nine."

Her heart nearly soared out of her chest as the Doctor immediately crossed her mind. She had not seen him or heard of him since earlier that week, when he had promised her he would bring her books to read. But, a part of her mind advised her that of course he had not come, he was a grown man with a job and a life of his own. He hardly spent his time fussing over her. Before a few days ago, he had rarely even spoken to Rose. Sure, they both had previously known each other. Rose had known Dr. Smith since practically birth, she would say. He was always around spending time with her father, whether it be golfing or tennis or racquetball. Afterwards, Dr. Smith would usually stay for dinner, always sitting across from little Rose. He would discuss his work at the museum, interesting herself and Pete, but leaving her mother thinking little of his monotonous "little-people" job.

"Do you know who the guest is?" Rose straightened her back and leaned in with interest.

Sophia turned around and shook her head. "No, Miss. Mrs. Tyler has not told any of the staff. She plans on it being a surprise, I believe," she conveyed before swiftly walking out of the room and heading for the kitchens.

Rose's smile faltered and she stood up from the coach, fixing the rumples of her skirt. She prepared herself for the ultimate showdown between her and her mother over dinner with the inevitable: Mr. Harkness.

#

Mr. Harkness sat across from Rose while Mr. and Mrs. Tyler each sat at the heads of the table. Pete read the newspaper as he left his peas untouched, while Jackie laughed and clapped her hands at each and every elaborate story Mr. Harkness told the table.

Rose chose not to respond to his stories at all, sitting perfectly straight and stoic while she ate her dinner and tried to tune out the obnoxious aggravation that was her newest suitor and her mother.

"And then," Mr. Harkness continued with wild hand gestures and a flashy smile, "We whizzed off in the airplane narrowly escaping the cliff's edge!"

Once again, clapping her hands with a wide grin upon her face, Jackie continued to stroke his ego. "I cannot believe the war was so perilous!" She turned to Rose, who, noticeably, was avoiding the table's conversation while fingering her long pearled necklace. "Rose, tell him what a miracle of God that was."

Plastering on her best faux smile she could muster, she flipped her head around to look at Mr. Harkness. "What a miracle of God that was, Mr. Harkness. I would applaud you for your service," she said through narrowed eyes and cruelly scrunched nose. Turning to her mother, she continued with: "But, it appears my mother already did."

Pete smirked as he flipped the newspaper page, doing a good job at avoiding being pulled into the tension between the two women.

Her mother opened her mouth to defensively respond, but Mr. Harkness interrupted, turning the conversation's focus onto Rose. "So Rose, what do you enjoy doing in your free time?" he asked, taking a sip of his brandy. After swallowing: "Do you like to sew or cross-stitch? My mate's wife loves to cross-stitch."

"Actually, I do not sew or cross-stitch, nor do I clean or cook or knit or raise children, Mr. Harkness. I usually partake in reading magazines, listening to records, or blankly staring at a wall because, frankly, that's all I'm good for."

The table grew painfully silent as Mr. Harkness slowly set down his glass, Jackie Tyler was rendered thankfully speechless, and Pete Tyler looked up from his newspaper, choosing to instead proudly grin at his daughter's flushed face.

The noise of wood pushing across the rug was heard as Rose stood from her chair, placing her napkin on her empty plate. "If you will excuse me, I have some flowered wallpaper to admire." She gave one last tightly-lipped smile before curtly departing, not bothering to push her chair back in.

After a few moments passed Pete let out a laugh, garnering an icy glare from his wife. "Oh boy," he chuckled as he resumed his reading, "she's just made a fool of us all."


	2. It's Just a Good Story

Listen to: "Molly on the Shore" by Percy Grainger or "Ain't We Got Fun?" by Doris Day

* * *

_**Chapter II: It's Just a Good Story**_

* * *

By the time the Doctor traveled from the British Museum in central London to the Tyler estate in Bromley, which was about a fifteen kilometre drive, and rang the bell at the front door, Mrs. Tyler was apologizing to Mr. Harkness in the grand foyer while Mr. Tyler sat in the adjacent drawing room, listening to the dull noise of Percy Grainger's "Molly on the Shore" on the gramophone.

"Once again," Jackie gently grasped the upper arm of Mr. Harkness, "I truly am sorry for Rose, I don't know what's gotten into her. She's been like this lately."

Mr. Harkness smiled politely and reached down for the doorknob of the large white doors that situated themselves at the end of the foyer. "No, no, don't you worry about anything, the food was great, and seeing your beautiful daughter and her _just_ as beautiful mother was worth the journey."

She giggled and fanned herself, growing a blush on her cheeks, while he flashed his white grin at her. "Pete, did you hear that? Mr. Harkness told me I was beautiful," she called.

A grunt was heard as Pete's only reply.

"And at that, I'll bid you farewell, Mrs. Tyler," Mr. Harkness inclined as he twisted the doorknob of the door and swung it open far enough to reveal a rather tired looking Dr. John Smith with the copy of _The Secret Garden_ under his arm and a briefcase in his hand.

Shrilly, a confused and irritated Jackie Tyler exclaimed: "John? What on bloody earth are you doing here?"

A half-asleep Pete practically hopped up from his sitting chair and rushed into the foyer with a wide grin on his face. "John! Good to see you lad! Come on in then! We were just showing our guest out!" he cheerily explained, gently nudging Mr. Harkness out of the way to open the door wider, letting the Doctor inside.

"Pete, did you invite him while you knew I had a guest?!" Pete's wife demanded, crossing her arms and pressing her lips together.

The Doctor shook his head and faintly rocked side to side. "No, sorry, Jackie, I came unannounced. If now is a bad time-"

Pete scoffed and put a friendly hand on Dr. Smith's shoulder, "No, of course it's not. You're always welcome here! Our guest was just leaving!"

Mr. Harkness waved bye to Jackie and slipped out the door, leaving a disgruntled Jackie left to call after him: "Wait, no! Mr. Harkness!"

Jackie clenched her fists and whirled around to face Pete and a frightened Dr. Smith. "Pete! I cannot believe you! I didn't get to even ask how long he'd be in town for! Now Rose may never find a bloody suitor thanks to your tactless arse practically drop-kicking the handsome man out the door, you daft bastard!"

She let out one final frustrated huff before stomping up the stairs and down the hallway towards her bedroom, slamming the door.

Pete turned to the Doctor and laughed heartily, clapping him on the back. "Thanks mate, she's gone. Now I can listen to my records in peace without her droning on and on about how attractive bloody Mr. Harkness is and how 'utterly perfect' he is for Rose." He then wondered back into the drawing room, picked up his glass of whiskey, and pointedly downed the glass.

"So," Dr. Smith cleared his throat, strolling into the drawing room, "Rose has a boyfriend then?"

Mr. Tyler snorted in response and sank down into his armchair. "Not that I know of. Mr. Harkness is some 'suitor' my wife drug into this house to hopefully try and match-make for Rose."

Trying to play off as having a mere casual interest in the matter, he asked: "Does she fancy him?"

"Who, Rose?" Pete asked as he loosened his tie, chuckling to himself, "No, she hates the poor bastard."

A silent part of the Doctor became elated at this news, nudging him to search for her and have his go at wooing her. "Speaking of Rose, Pete, I actually have a gift for her," he stated, putting down his suitcase and showing him the book. "The other day we spoke while I was looking for you and she expressed to me her interest in reading. So I promised her I would bring her a book from the museum library, that's all."

Through the dimly lit room, Pete squinted to make out the book's cover. Only vaguely interested he replied: "Huh, yeah, that was nice of you. She's upstairs in her room I believe, probably still upset after what happened at dinner. That should cheer her right up, hopefully. I can't take two upset women in this house; I just can't." Pete shook his head and pulled out a cigar and a lighter, lighting it and sighing in relief.  
A bit awkwardly, the Doctor nervously played with the cover of the book. "Do I have permission to…?"

Pete slapped his hand in the air as an expression of him not caring. "Come on, mate, you're practically family. When you get back down here, we'll talk about how the wireless business is coming along. Perhaps you'll have some new insight none of us suits have thought of."

At the mention of him being like family to the Tyler's, he felt his shoulders immediately slump in response, not wishing at all for Ms. Tyler to see him as an uncle or such. Sure, he could never court her or anything of the sort, but he would at least like to be her best mate. She could use someone to be there for her during her days of solitude on an estate where her only company was the staff and her parents. "Yeah, yeah, sure thing, lad," the Doctor affirmed before he set out up the stairs, down the corridor, down a hallway, down another hallway, and to Rose's door; leaving Pete to thoughtlessly stand up to go fumble around with the records.

At Rose's door, at the very end of the long hall, the lighting was minimal and the Doctor grew nervous, tugging on his buttoned collar. Suddenly, a loud blast of trumpet sound erupted from behind the door and the muffled lyrics follow:

_Every morning_

_Every evening_

_Ain't we got fun_

_Not much money_

_Oh but honey_

_Ain't we got fun_

Smirking slightly, the Doctor shoved his hand in his pocket and used his other one to knock five times on Rose's door, bracing himself for her wrath.

_The rent's unpaid dear_

_We haven't a bus_

_But smiles were made dear_

_For people like us_

"Dad, go away!" the Doctor heard over the music. "I don't wanna talk about it, I'm still fuming!"

_In the winter in the Summer_

_Don't we have fun_

_Times are bum and getting bummer_

_Still we have fun_

"Rose, it's Dr. Smith, I have your book!" he called back, biting his lip anxiously.

_There's nothing surer_

_The rich get rich and the poor get children_

_In the meantime_

_In the between time_

_Ain't we got fun._

A few moments pass before Rose replied. "Well, come in then! Do you like the sight of my door or something?"

Laughing inwardly and shaking his head, the Doctor twisted the doorknob and entered, for the first time in over ten years, into Rose's room. The first encounter with Rose's room occurred on her ninth birthday party that was held at the estate. Rose had left her new doll in her room that she wanted to show everyone, so he had volunteered to quickly race up the stairs and retrieve it so she wouldn't be kept waiting for too long. The look on Rose's face when he appeared out on the lawn with the doll was worth the shortness of breath and runner's cramp in his side.

However, her room had drastically changed since that party those years ago. Instead of it being drowned in an array of pink like it was when she was eight years old, he was shocked to find it was a clean and modern white in a sort of princess-like state. The wide windows were open to let in a breeze from the hot, humid air, causing the long white curtains to fly across the room. On the ceiling hung a crystal chandelier and paintings hung along the ashen walls. There were paintings of ballerinas dancing in forests to string quartets, paintings of greenery and landscapes with misty skies, paintings of sailboats in harbors, paintings of women with hats and umbrellas, and a painting that had initially caught the Doctor's eye. He immediately identified the painting as a work of Pierre-Joseph Redouté: a painting of budding pale pink roses in an antique brass crested vase with greenery situated around the roses in the vase. It was the only thing left in Rose's room that had something pink even incorporated into it. Her bed and sheets were white; the circular rug was patterned with white, cream, and red; and the seating was all off-white.

"Doctor, are you just gonna stand there and look daft, or are you gonna give me what you came all the way here for?" Rose's voice interrupted his thoughts, bringing him back to the reality of the fact that the loud music was still playing, and Rose was sprawled on her bed, clutching tightly onto one of the numerous pillows she had laying around.

_We've only started _

_As mommer and pop _

Feeling his face grow warm, the Doctor hurriedly stepped inside of the room, closing the door behind him, babbling: "Right, er-I apologise I was-well I was…Your room looks different."

_Are we downhearted _

_I'll say that we're not _

Rose let out a laugh and her eyes scrunched up in a cute manner. She rolled onto her back clumsily and kicked the pillow away from her. "I should hope so, the last time you were in here I was nine years old and a spoiled brat, I should say."

The Doctor tore his gaze away from Rose's dress that was slowly hiking up her leg and focused on what she had just said. "You remember that?" he warily asked.

_Landlords mad and getting madder _

_Ain't we got fun_

_Times are so bad and getting badder _

_Still we have fun _

"Of course I remember that," Rose murmured. She pulled herself up and turned over, propping herself up on her elbows, now facing the Doctor. "You were my hero," she continued, matter-of-factly.

Her blonde hair was beginning to tumble out of the meticulous burettes she had placed in it to style something akin to a bob, and…and Jesus Christ, why hadn't he noticed sooner how pleasant her face was? Her big brown eyes and her slight blush on her cheeks and her chin was soft and her neck was so smooth and her shoulders….

_There's nothing surer _

_The rich get rich and the poor get laid off _

"How do you remember that?" the Doctor asked, still taken aback by the fact that Rose thought of him as anything else but her dad's mate.

She shrugged and flopped back onto her back. "I dunno, I just do. Now, what book did you bring me?"

_In the meantime _

_In between time _

_Ain't we got fun._

The gramophone in the corner of Rose's bedroom immediately stopped producing music, indicating the end of the song.

Rose made a movement to get out of her bed and change the song, but the Doctor was quicker. "I'll get it," he told her, walking over to the gramophone and taking the needle off of the record. As the record slowly came to a halt, the Doctor turned his attention onto the shelves of records Rose had beside the podium that housed the gramophone. At a first glance, most of the music she had was modern things like "Ain't We Got Fun?"

He reached out to gently leaf through the selection, but Rose's voice startled him, making him jump. "Doctor, are you gonna show me the book you have underneath your armpit or are you gonna just dig around some more?"

Dr. Smith immediately backed away from the shelves bashfully. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise-"

"Yeah, you didn't realise that that doesn't bother me, what bothers me is the fact that I hate waiting and you're making me wait for my book," she sternly interrupted him.

He chuckled in response and hurried over to where she laid on the bed. "Oh, alright, you're so demanding," he teased.

Rose looked up and noticed that he held the book out towards her, but stood at the foot of the bed-a good three metres away from her. Sitting up from her position, she looked warily at him. "What are you doing so far away?"

Blubbering, the Doctor blushed and retracted the book, "Well, I-you're on the bed- and I have to-"

"Sit ," Rose demanded, patting the space next to her.

"I have shoes on, Ms. Tyler," he nervously replied, pointing down to his shoes, his ears turning red.

Rose sent a him a mischievous smirk before crawling across the bed and dragging him onto it, making him exclaim a few "oh"'s and "alright"'s. With the Doctor sitting beside her on the bed, Rose leaned into him taking the book from his hand. "Oh, and by the way, please call me Rose. You aren't my driver, Doctor," she told him with a sideways smile.

"Dully noted, _Rose_. As with the fact that you do not mind if shoes are on your bedspread," he tremulously looked down at the brown stain his shoes had already caused upon the clean sheets.

Blatantly ignoring him, she began to carefully eye the front cover the book that was decorated with a small blonde girl in a red dress and hat holding a small golden key. Her other hand dug through the tall hedge that she stood in front of. The border around the cover was shades of green with vines of roses wrapped around. Her eyes began to well with tears and she slowly drug her fingers across the cover, feeling the different textures of the materials used. "Doctor, I cannot believe you," she hoarsely whispered, stray tears began to fall onto the cover of the book.

Growing panicked that Rose was offended that he gave her a children's book to read, he swiftly rambled: "I know it's technically a youth's book and all, but I promise that you'll enjoy it as much as I-"

He was cut off when Rose's arms wrapped around his frame as the book was tossed forgotten on the bed. "No," Rose disputed, her voice muffled in his shoulder, "I cannot believe you found the book I have always dreamt of."

"You can keep it," he smiled, cradling Rose's head in his hand. Some of her hairs tickled his nose, but he found that he didn't care at all, because he had never felt so relieved in his life. She had loved his choice. She loved what _he_ had picked out for her. Nothing felt as powerful as that did. Nothing.

#

_Across the lawn came the Master of Misselthwaite and he looked as many of them had never seen him_, Rose read from the bottom of the last page of _The Secret Garden_. _And by his, side with his head up in the air and his eyes full of laughter walked as strongly and steadily as any boy in Yorkshire-Master Colin._

Letting a chill pass over her and her eyes flutter shut, she gently closed the book and hugged it gently against herself. After the Doctor had departed the night before, she had read the book all through to the night until at about five o'clock in the morning when she had finally finished, eyes dreadfully tired.

Outside of Rose's window it was still dark, with the distant treetops illuminated by the estate's lampposts. A gentle breeze wafted throughout her spacious room, creating goose bumps along her bare arms. She let out a contented sigh and brought the book out from her chest to admire the cover once more, before setting it on her bedside table and staring blankly at the wall across from her bed.

The parallels from the book to Rose's life were enough to draw her in some sort of contemplating trance. Of course, at an obvious first glance, the little girl, Mary, was Rose: ill-tempered, standoffish, lonely, and bold. That would leave Colin to be the Doctor: a tyrannical know-it-all that comes across sometimes as perhaps feminine. But, in the book, Mary was hopelessly in love with Dickson: an exotic, mysterious, poor boy. _Sure, he didn't exactly return the feelings, but if Colin is the Doctor,_ Rose thought, _then who is Dickson? _

#

This time around, the Doctor had to produce a book that topped the seamlessly-fitting: _The Secret Garden_; which meant-of course-that instead of giving Rose some crummy old library book, it had to be a book that he owned himself. Purchasing a book would make it seem as if he was trying to buy the way into her heart…er, mind. Over the past night, he had to routinely put himself in check over stray thoughts of Ms. Tyler, his _best mate's daughter_ who he had known since she was just a wee thing. Thinking of her as anything else but a surrogate daughter was horribly inappropriate, and made him guilty on the sake of Pete. To bloody hell with Jackie.

Just in his small one bedroom flat in Mayfair he had at least three-hundred books of all sorts, but it had been years since he had last counted, so he could have around five-hundred by now easily. Instead of a sofa or a gramophone or a kitchen table, the majority of his sitting room and kitchen was filled with sagging wooden bookshelves and towers of books where he had run out of bookshelves. Because he was a librarian, most would think it would be all be in some sort of order, but that was not the case. He had nonfiction books on dolphins and whales by _Sense and Sensibility_, and the Bible by _War of the Worlds_. No sense of organization or array at all, in fact. Just stacks and stacks of beaten and battered books.

His eyes rested on _Pride and Prejudice_ while leafing through his selections. _No, no good at all,_ he thought as he tossed the copy behind his head. Rose Tyler was a feminist in every shape and form, but a whole book about it? Plus some ill romance to fluff it up? How offensive. That was most certainly out.

Next the Doctor came across _Jane Eyre_, another mindless version of a woman's inner thoughts. That one went out the window.

After making the sure the copy was safe and sound in the gutter, he came across his copy of _A Study in Scarlet _that he had been looking for since well into last year. He threw that onto his armchair.

After some more leafing through, Dr. Smith finally laid is eyes on the plain cover he was imagining in his head.

_Alice's _

_Adventures in Wonderland_

By

Lewis Carroll

#

It was pouring by the time Rose made it to central London after lunch. Accompanied by only her driver, she had made it clear to her mum that she wanted to come alone to shop for autumn clothing.

"Mr. Jacobs, can you take me to Bond Street please?" she leaned forward from the back seat of the model T sedan.

"Sure, love, which shops will you be interested in?" Mr. Jacobs replied.

"Chanel please."

He nodded in response to her as she settled back into her eat.

A few moments passed before Rose asked impulsively: "Sir, how far away from Bond Street is the museum?"

Raising an eyebrow he answered: "About a mile, Ms. Tyler. Are you interested in going?"

Looking out the window at the grey skies, Rose pondered on that. "Today is Sunday, correct, Mr. Jacobs?"

"The museum is closed on Sunday, ma'am, you're correct."

Rose ran her tongue over her teeth in deep thought. "Have you ever taken Dr. Smith home?"

Discreetly grinning, Mr. Jacobs nodded. "Yes, Miss, he lives in Mayfair."

Bond Street was in Mayfair.

"Where in Mayfair?" she pressed further.

"15 Bruton Place."

Clearing her throat and nervously tapping her finger on her leg, Rose ordered: "I believe it's too rainy for shopping today, Mr. Jacobs. I wish to visit our friend, Dr. Smith, instead if you don't mind, of course."

Mr. Jacobs smiled. "Sure thing."

Once the car had pulled up in the front of the quaint building just a few blocks from Bond Street, Rose immediately began to regret her decision. What if he wasn't home? But what if he was and he already had company? Sure, over her nineteen years of knowing the Doctor he had never had any serious girlfriend, but that didn't exclude the possibility that he was gay. He being gay actually made more and more sense after she began to intently scrutinise his behavior. A forty-something year old man with no wife, no children, perfect hair, soft hands, kind eyes….

"Ma'am?" Mr. Jacobs's voice harshly interrupted the silence of the car. "Did you want to proceed on to Bond Street, or do you want me to escort you inside?"

Letting out a shaky breath, she responded with: "No, um, I'm still contemplating on whether or not to go inside or not."

"You know, he's always in," he advised casually, pulling the Sunday paper from beside him and folding it open.

"Is he though?" she doubted, looking up at the windows of the flats above. All of them had boxes of flowers hung, and one particular set of windows had pink roses planted, she noticed.

Her driver chuckled lightly and flipped his page. "Ms. Tyler, I'm afraid to say that Mr. Tyler is all the mates he's got outside of work nowadays."

"Really?" her heart fluttered as she clenched and unclenched her fists.

He sat down his paper and looked back at Rose. "Ms., I really do have all the time in the world, but I sure would like to read my paper in peace. Now get on with it then, love," he winked.

A beat passed before Rose eventually nodded, grinning. "Alright. I'll go see him."

"Jolly good then, Ms. Tyler," he affirmed, moving to open his door handle.

Before he could fully open the car door, Rose held up a hand to stop him. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Jacobs. I can walk a few steps by myself."

Not going to bother to refuse, he picked his paper back up and focused his attention back on it. "Flat number 3C, ma'am."

Mentally, she made a note of that before stepping out of the passenger door and into the rain….and a puddle.

"Bloody hell!" she cursed under breath, hopping onto the curb and rushing into the building.

Before climbing the staircase up to the third level, she brushed water off of her hair and hat, and examined the damage done to her plum satin shoes and white stockings. One rule about satin: do not get it wet.

Still cursing under her breath, she declared defeat with her shoes and slowly began to climb the creaky wooden stairs up to the third floor.

Down the hallway she went until she came to a door reading 3C in brass paint. The door itself was an eggshell white with peeling sides revealing the true material of the door: steel. With one delicate hand knotted into a fist, she knocked three times on the door before pulling her hand back and waiting with her breath held.

A faint "one tick!" is heard from behind the door and Rose then became very nervous because he _was_ home and in any moment he would be opening his door to find a damp, wilted Rose Tyler standing in a puddle of rainwater at his doorstep. _Was it too late to run?_ she thought.

Dr. Smith's door swung open with him behind it, grinning manically. "Rose Tyler! Just the woman I was preparing for!"

With a blank stunned expression on her face, Rose found it hard to utter anything in response, so the Doctor continued on, ignoring her reaction. "Did you finish _The Secret Garden_? I thought you'd like it, mostly because Mary reminded me of you the first time I read it a couple of years ago. I was honestly shocked that the book was considered a children's novel with the particular diction and style the author used. The ending I found particularly profound when I realised that the garden had changed Colin and Mary so much. How did you enjoy it, Rose?" he rambled on and on in one breath.

"I-,uhm," Rose nervously started. She couldn't embarrass herself now by just spitting out something senseless and ill. Clearing her throat, she straightened her back. "I was confused on who Dickson was supposed to be."

"Oh, well Dickson was related to-" he started to explain before Rose interrupted him.

"No," she shook her head. "If I'm supposed to be Mary, and you're supposed to be Colin," her voice hitched, "then who is Dickson supposed to be?"

Obviously, she had caught him off guard by the way he started to stammer and look anywhere else but her. "I-" he coughed, "er-Dickson and Mary and Colin aren't supposed to be anyone, Rose. It's just a story. A good story, but still a story."

Grinning and gaining more confidence with herself, she shook her head at him again. "Oh come on, Dr. Smith, Mary is a little girl with blonde hair and an attitude problem. Colin is a sickly, nerdy little boy who has to be always right and always in control. So, who is Dickson? Who am I in love with, John?"

She used his first name, sending chills down his spine. Soaked from head to toe, it made the mint-green fabric of her airy curator dress stick to her figure, showing her hardened nipples. Swallowing thickly, he hoarsely avoided her question. "Are you cold?" he asked, making sure his line of sight was safely on her face.

"Actually, I am a bit chilly," Rose acknowledged. "If you haven't noticed, it's raining outside."

Turning his head back and laughing charmingly, he opened the door a bit wider. "Yes, I believe it _is_ raining outside, Rose Tyler. Come in, I'll get a towel or something of the sort, I suppose."

"It's about time you acted like a gentleman, Dr. Smith," she smirked, stepping through the door. As he closed the door behind her (but not before noticing the way her shoulder brushed past his arm), Rose took a look around the flat. It appeared to be only three rooms: one room for the kitchen and sitting area, one room for the bedroom, and another for the lavatory. Yet, with so little space, so much was taken up by shelves and stacks of books. So much so, that there were pathways created for walk space.

"That's funny," she said in a baffled tone, turning around to look at the Doctor. "It looked bigger from the outside." She found she could only keep that straight tone for a few seconds before snickering and covering her mouth as she laughed about how terrible his flat truly was.

Laughing inwardly and looking down at his shoes, he retorted: "Yes, very funny, Rose. My flat is a piece of rubbish, I know." He headed inside of the lavatory and returned with a white towel rough from continuous use.

"It really is," she nodded in agreement, still giggling as she took off her sopping wet cloche hat and ran her fingers through her medium-length blonde waves. She hoped all of the hairspray would stick through the humidity in the air from the rainstorm as she took the towel from him and began to rub the hat dry with it.

"I'm glad you came over," he changed the subject, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. She noticed while he had the same colour suit as always before (blue), but this new suit was more stylish and fit his slender body better (or perhaps it was the same suit and Rose was just seeing him in a different light).

"What? Do you already have another book for me?"

Quickly brushing past Rose he exclaimed over his shoulder: "Rose Tyler of course I have another book for you! Who else do I have to show off to?"

Rose rolled her eyes at the comment as she hung her hat on the coat rack near the entryway and began to pat-dry her dress.

The Doctor began to dig underneath his armchair muttering under his breath, inciting Rose to give his back an odd look. "Aha!" he cried, sitting up with a book in his hand. "I've found it!" Using his sleeve to wipe the cover of the book clean, he stood up from the cluttered floor.

"Doctor, what was it doing under your seat?" she warily wondered.

"Safe keeping, Rose. All of my most important of things go under my chair! That way I never lose them in this mess," he gestured around them.

She nodded as she closely eyed the wreck of the flat he lived in. "Yeah, I see that. You need a woman in your life," Rose observed, placing the damp towel next to her rumbled hat.

He scoffed in response and slapped his hand towards her. "Nah, I think I'll be good…until there's a fire of course."

Rose weakly laughed but continued to look around the flat in horror.

"Now, do you want to see the book I've picked out for you?"

Rose nodded as the Doctor handed her the plain covered book. "_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_," she read aloud with a small smile on her face.

"Have you ever read it?" he asked, hoping that she had and this would be nostalgic for her.

Opening the book and flipping through the pages, stopping on all the illustrations, she grinned. "Yes, of course. My mum read it to be when I was little girl. She always teased that the book was actually written about me."

"I thought it would be a more fun read than _The Secret Garden_," he chuckled, anxiously tapping his finger against his thigh.

She looked up from the book and held his gaze. "Will you read it to me?" If he read it to her, they would be forced to share that small armchair he had crammed in the corner of his sitting room, forcing the two of them together. The more she looked at his ridiculous tight suit the more she wanted to just touch it-to drag her fingers and along his shoulder and down to his chest, ripping off that hideous maroon knit tie.

Tugging on his ear awkwardly he sputtered, his voice growing high-pitched: "I'm sorry, what?"

Taking a tentative step forward, she over emphasised every word as she repeated: "Will you read it to me?"

Dr. Smith tensely laughed. "I think you can read by yourself, now, Rose."

"Doctor," she grew serious, making him gulp, "I grew up hearing this wonderful story from my _mother's _voice. Now I wonder what it would sound like in yours."

Some part of him felt like he was being seduced by Ms. Tyler, making him try to think of Pete's face to try and calm himself down. He couldn't sit there and read that book to her. One thing might lead to another…but what if she wasn't thinking of that at all? Of course she wasn't, she was not even twenty yet and only saw him as an uncle or cousin or something. It was raining outside and she just wanted someone to read her a pleasant story, that's all. "Alright, Rose Tyler, I'll read this bloody book to you," he caved easily, pointing to the only seat in the entire flat.

Smirking inwardly, Rose sank down into the armchair gave him a look that said _Are you gonna sit down too?_.

"Oh no. No, Ms. Ty-I mean, Rose. I'll be fine on the floor thank you very much," the Doctor firmly stated. He kicked away some of the books on the floor with the toe of his trainer before sitting down on the hard floor, shimming around in an attempt to become comfortable.

She cocked an eyebrow at him and didn't say a single word-just looked at him. He would have to cave. There was no way he would stay on the stiff flooring for more than a couple of seconds when he could be sitting in his own armchair with herself perched on his lap. Highly inappropriate, but something she itched to do. She wanted to see how far she could push him towards her. He wasn't like any of the other men she had ever known. They would all jump at the chance to be in close contact with her, but he was entirely different. Anything having to do with her in that aspect made him jumpy and anxious, which she supposed was a good thing, as long as she managed to coax him out of that behavior at some point in the future.

"Well, I mean-" the Doctor rambled while reading the expressions on Rose's face, "If you thought we could maybe share the chair? Each one of us could sit on an arm and-"

Smiling, she interrupted him. "Doctor, sit down and read to me," she murmured, pointedly rising from the chair and gesturing to it.

Grimacing because he clearly lost this battle, he creakily stood up.

#

"_Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, 'and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice 'without pictures or conversations?'_" the Doctor softly read aloud from the first page as the faint pitter patter! of the rain drops fell against windowsill. Rose grinned from upon his lap, staring down at the pages of the book along with him. His body was warm against hers, and she pushed her back a bit further in his chest. He attempted to ignore the way his heart continued to speed up as his suit grew more and more damper from her dress.

"_So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her,_" he continued, trying to maintain a monotonous voice while a war played out inside of his head. His best mate's daughter sitting on his lap? Sure, she did that when she was still in primary school, but now? The Doctor only ever saw adult couples doing what they were doing. Making them a couple, and Rose and him were definitely not a couple. He was so old and skinny and she was so young and…not skinny. He could tell by her figure she had to use a tight corset to maintain the flat-chested appearance that was so coveted and in style for women.

The Doctor knew once Rose settled her head on his shoulder and he could feel her slow, warm breaths on his neck that he was going to be guilty for the rest of his life.

#

"_So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality-the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds-the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen's shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy-and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard-while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle's heavy sobs_," he murmured, flipping the last page of the book. Rose's breath had grown slow for the last twenty minutes or so, indicating she had drifted to sleep. Yet, he choose to continue with the book, in case she slept lightly enough for some part of her to somehow hear him as he finished the book.

"_Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days,_" he finished, gazing at Rose those final few words he said. Her eyes were shut and her face was relaxed, tucked into the crook of his neck. He slowly shut the book and put it in-between himself and the seat. "The end," the Doctor whispered, gently raising a hand he caressed her hair, feeling how soft and clean it was. A few bobby pins held the shorter pieces of her hair away from her face and discreetly tucked them underneath the rest of her hair.

_Should he wake her up?_ he thought to himself. A glance at his watch told him it was already afternoon tea time. Her driver was probably quite annoyed with the two of them, since she had arrived just after lunch. "Rose," he lightly shook her shoulder, waking her up.

"Hm?" Rose groaned, sleepily, taking her head off of his shoulder (to the Doctor's faint disappointment).

"It's already five o'clock," he said, looking up at her as she stared at his flat, obviously disoriented.

She grew sheepish, feeling guilty that she fell asleep after she had asked him to read to her and he kindly obliged. "Is it really? Are you finished with the reading already?"

The Doctor laughed and tugged the book from beside him and showed it to Rose. "Yes, I just finished, actually. I lost my sense of time, it seems."

"I'm so sorry I fell asleep, I feel so awful," she said, clutching the sides of her face.

He scoffed. "No, don't worry about it. You'd only been asleep for about twenty minutes, anyways. And, it's grown late."

"Oh," Rose jumped up from her place on the Doctor. "Mr. Jacobs must be so furious with me. He's been waiting for hours, it must be."

With an aching loss of warmth, the Doctor rose from his seat, resting the book where he had sat. "Yes, well, I'll see you soon with another book, then," the Doctor smiled, a bit disheartened on the fact that she would be leaving and he would be all alone in his chair.

"Actually," Rose apprehensively wondered, "I was going to ask if I could maybe stop by the museum one day." Then she quickly added: "If you have no engagements, of course. I wouldn't want to bother you at your job."

The Doctor could not contain the elation at hearing her ask if she could stop by the museum and he grinned widely. "Rose Tyler, I think that would be just splendid! Come by any day we're open and I'll be there!" Sure, perhaps he came across as pathetically desperate, but he could honestly not care less. The idea of showing Rose off to the two other workers in the library was thrilling to him (for the Doctor's austere day-to-day life). He could just see their faces as he presented his exquisite companion with yellow hair and pink skin.

Smiling and inwardly sighing in relief, "Great, I'll drop by soon," she replied.

The two walked over to the door and the Doctor took her now somewhat-dry cloche hat from the rack and handed it to her. "I enjoyed your visit," he said, opening the door for her.

"I'll see you soon, Doctor," she smiled, her fingers fumbling with her hat.

Knowing he very well might have regretted it; he bent down and gave her chaste kiss on the forehead.

Feeling cheated out of a decent kiss, Rose grabbed the back of his head before he could fully pull away and pressed her lips roughly against his. The Doctor jumped backwards quickly in response, roughly tearing his hands through his hair.

Humiliated and mortified, Rose held back tears as she realised that the Doctor did not kiss her on her forehead because he was shy or uncertain, but because he truly did not see her in any romantic or sexual light at all. To him, she was just his mate's daughter. His mate's nineteen year-old, immature, obtuse, impetuous daughter. "I'm sorry," she shook her head, her cheeks growing flushed, "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, Dr. Smith, I wasn't thinking." Putting her hat on her head, she turned on her heel and rushed away from the door and down the hallway, heels clacking against the wooden floor.

The Doctor wore a face of shock as he exasperatedly put his hands on his hips. After only a beat of silent thought, he swore under his breath and raced after her, catching her hand before she could descend down the stairs in her escape.

Her eyes widened and she gasped when she felt herself turning around to face the Doctor. Then, she grew even more astonished when his lips came crashing down upon hers, giving her mind no time to register anything at all. He furiously grabbed her waist and pulled her tightly against him, his hands clutching at the small of her back impulsively. All he could think about was how warm and soft she was against his chest, and how incredible her hot breath felt in his mouth.

It took her a few moments before she could fully respond against him, moving her lips against his just as rapidly. She scraped her fingers up his arms to his shoulders, then continued the ascent to rest at the nape of his neck.

The Doctor broke away from the attention on her mouth to trail warm, open-mouthed kisses on her jaw and neck. In response, Rose tilted her head back and bit down on her lower lip.

After he reached her shoulder, he ceased and rested his forehead against hers, his breath winded as much as hers was. He took his hands off of the small of her back to take hold of her own hands and drag them off of his neck. He clasped them together before bringing them to his lips and kissing them gently.

"I'll see you later, yeah?" she smiled softly, looking up at him through thick eyelashes.

The Doctor nodded and dropped Rose's hands down to her side. "Yes, I would like that, Rose Tyler, very much so."

Sighing, Rose wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head into his shoulder. "Oh, and by the way, Doctor," she mumbled, "I loved your boxes of roses."


	3. The Doctor's Magic Squares

Listen to: "Truman Sleeps" by Philip Glass or "You Do Something to Me" by Cole Porter

* * *

_**Chapter III: The Doctor's Magic Squares**_

* * *

The Doctor whistled on his way to work the next day, because frankly, he had never been happier. He had spent the most wonderful afternoon with his dream girl, and ended up snogging her down his hall! Who would have believed that Rose bloody Tyler would have kissed him back? Much less kissed him first?

"What's this all about?" Donna Noble pestered as soon as the Doctor managed to sit down in his office. She stood at the door with her arms crossed and a stern gaze plastered on her face.

He immediately stopped whistling and pretended to organise his desk. "What are you talking about?" he asked innocently.

Putting her hands on her hips, the librarian huffed: "The whistling! Since when do you bloody whistle?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, since today."

Pointing at him and shaking her hand a slow smile crept on her face. "Ah, you met a girl, didn't you?" When the Doctor blatantly ignored her she continued, "Was it that negro girl from the other day? You know, the physician one? She seemed to fancy you, she even asked me for your name…but what was _her_ name again? Missy? Meredith? Mary?"

"Her name was Martha," he quickly interrupted, growing agitated, "and no, I have not spoken to her since that one day she came in, thank the heavens."

"Oi! She was nice!" Donna protested.

The Doctor tilted his head back and forth. "Eh, she was alright. Not my type."

"Oh my God, Sarah Jane always told me you were kind of gay, but I didn't know you actually were!" she dramatically clutched her heart.

"Ugh, Donna cut it out," he shook it head at her. "You know I'm not gay."

Sitting her hands on his desk she leaned in close to him. "You can tell me, I won't turn you in," she fiercely whispered.

He roughly pushed his chair back and stood up. "Blimey! You really stick your nose in everything don't you?"

"You are gay, aren't you?!" she exclaimed with her hands on her cheeks in shock.

"What? No! Of course not!" he shook his head. "I am seeing someone…well, I think. I hope, really," he expressed, running his hands through his hair.

"Then spit it out! Who is it?" Donna pressed.

The Doctor sighed, "All you need to know is that my relationship with her could jeopardise my friendship with my mate. That's all."

A look of dread passed over her face as she stood up straight and groaned: "Bloody hell, John, not Jackie Tyler! Anyone else but her, please!"

The mental images that passed through his head then made him want to yank his brain out and beat it with a dictionary. "Again: no, of course not!" he cried. "It's Rose for Christ sake! I fancy Pete's _daughter_!" The Doctor sunk back down into his chair and rested his forehead in despair. "His bloody nineteen year old daughter," he muttered.

Relieved that is was not after all Jackie Tyler, Donna took the news of John's infatuation with his daughter rather well, considering it was, in fact, inappropriate what he was doing. She walked around his desk and kneeled beside him. "John, how bad is it?"

"She's so different than any other woman I've ever met. I hardly ever gave her a second glimpse until just this past week," he confessed. "But now, I see her in this new light, and she's so fantastic, Donna. She's everything to me."

"Maybe it's just a crush. You're only amazed at how much she's grown up," Donna offered.

The Doctor adamantly shook his head. "No," he sighed. "I'd never spoken more than five words to her before this past week, and now I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

#

She couldn't make a visit to the library so soon, could she? It was only the day after she was invited by him. Would it appear too eager of her?

Rose laid on her bed, staring up at the arched ceiling, contemplating having Mr. Jacobs drive her down to the British Museum. She couldn't help but think that if she went down there, he might be bothered by her presence and become annoyed at how obsessively clingy she was. She didn't want to be desperate at all; she wanted to give him the opportunity to come to her. But, then again, he did tell her to come by any day they were open. Rose exasperatedly covered her eyes with her hands and let out a frustrated groan.

A knock on the door came and Rose gracelessly managed to sit up from her bed. "Come in," she called.

Pete Tyler opened the door and caught one look at her before embarrassingly turning his head to look at the walls. "Rose, I didn't know you were still in your pyjamas," he coughed.

Wearily, she stood from her bed and took her lavender robe off of the bedpost, wrapping herself in it, covering her off-white pajama set. "Sorry, dad," Rose apologised, rubbing her eyes, "I'm not feeling too well this morning."

Her father snuck a glance to reassure that she was now decent as she sat back down on the bed. "It's already after lunch and you're still in bed," he scolded her.

"You know, mum is usually in bed till lunch every morning too," Rose reminded him.

Sighing he walked further into the room. "Rose, that's definitely not the point. Do you want to be like Jackie?"

"Well no, of course not, I was just saying-"

Pete sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. "And I was just saying," Pete interrupted, "that it's not very like my Rose to sleep all day and become so melancholy she brings the whole room down."

"Daddy, I'm not sad," she shook her head. Really, Rose has elated that she could claim the Doctor as her own.

"Then what's wrong?"

Rose sighed, "I don't know, I just…I'm thinking way too hard over something that should be simple."

"Well," Pete patted her on the knee, "you tell me what it is, and maybe I can help make it simpler."

She bit her lip hard. The last thing Rose wanted to do was inform her dad that she snogged his best mate. Was there a way to discuss her predicament with the library, without letting on that she and the Doctor had been intimate the afternoon before? "Actually," she scratched her head, "your mate Dr. Smith invited me to the library so I could pick out books."

"Well, love, that's great!" Pete smiled widely, making a pit of guilt grow in Rose's stomach.

"Yeah, I know…it's just that I'm afraid of bothering him at his job? You know? I don't know how busy he usually is," she explained to him.

Chuckling, he shook his head. "If I know John, he's probably just sitting around reading like he always does. A big wise-guy like him should jump at the chance show off."

Rose only shrugged and mumbled: "I don't know."

"Honey, if he truly asked you to stop by, then he obviously didn't think you would be a huge bother," Pete rationalised.

"So, do you think I should go?" she asked sincerely.

"Not until you eat some food," he patted her on her back.

#

For the record, Rose did in fact ask her father if he wanted to come with her after she finished her lunch and had gotten properly dressed, but he gave her a gentle "nah" and kiss on the forehead before retreating to his office. So, she sat in the backseat of the car switching between nervously twiddling her thumbs and adjusting her wide-brimmed pearl sinamay hat. She had made sure she paired the unique hat, decorated with pink swamp rose mallows around the bond of it, with a champagne pink drop-waist dress and t-strap heels.

"It's pleasant outside today, isn't it, Mr. Jacobs?" she acknowledged while peering out of the sedan's window.

A loud crank! was heard as he shifted gears. "Yes, much better than it was yesterday," he affirmed.

"How far are we from the museum?" The car rambled over the waterloo bridge.

"I'd say about fifteen minutes, ma'am," he answered, lifting up his herringbone driver's cap to scratch his head.

Rose nodded and let her mind wonder to what she thought the Doctor might be wearing (blue pinstripes of course), what she thought he might act like at the library (himself of course), and to what she thought his coworkers were like (all old women…she hoped).

She and Mr. Jacobs entered into Westminster and passed by all of the numerous theatres (Savoy, Lyceum, Aldwych, Stoll Picture), all of which had been in, but all of the productions she had seen often ran together, as she had no profound interest in theatre and found the three hour melodramas to be stiffly boring.

Driving on Kingsway they passed the Holborn tube station, then taking a left onto Great Russell St. Mr. Jacobs pulled up in front of a massive building with Grecian architecture: the British Museum. Two stone pedestals framed the front courtyard with a tall iron-rod gate. The two entrances of the gate that was in between the pedestals were open a decent size of visitors filed into the museum. She had been in the museum a few times before, but never by herself, and the thought intimated her. All of the people who filed in looked like they knew where they were going and what they expected. Rose herself couldn't even remember the kinds of things the museum had (well, she knew that they had liquor from the gala she went to last year).

"Will you be escorting me inside?" she asked in a small voice.

Mr. Jacobs turned around and gave Rose a reassuring glance. "Don't be nervous, love. Now, you've been inside before. The library is through the foyer and into the main hall, up the steps in that huge dome. Go and ask for him, and he'll come and visit you. But, I can't park here, so I'll come inside after I find a parking space and keep myself busy while I wait."

"But-" she began before he cut her off after looking at his watch.

"It's twenty-till-three right now, so we'll meet back up in the reading room at around six o'clock. If you want you to leave any sooner, just have the information desk ring for me. Sound good, Miss?"

"Yes, of course," she nodded.

Mr. Jacobs kept the car running as he stepped out. Before grabbing his hand Rose quickly snatched her beaded handbag and then let him help her out of the car.

"I will now depart, Ms. Tyler," he tipped his hat.

She smiled kindly and thanked him before he climbed back in the car and drove off to park. For a few moments Rose stood on the sidewalk staring at the passing cars and pedestrians. Everyone had a place to go and everyone knew what they were doing. With a forlorn expression, she turned on her heel and walked through the gates of the museum.

The courtyard looked smaller from the road, something she had forgotten until half-way down the middle of the courtyard when her feet began to ache from her heels. With a straight, wide, block of stone down the middle lined with streetlamps and well-kept plots of grass, the front of the museum was beautiful. Tourists and visitors sat along the walls of the plots, either chatting or looking through maps. Some of the American women wore bright shades of colours, some even wearing wide trousers. Rose herself had never worn trousers outside of her bedroom, so she was surprised at that, but still found all of the American women looking so strong and well, the image of feminism and the massive suffrage movement. _I'm sure they all know where they're going_, she thought.

Walking past the enormous columns and into the main building seemed so new to Rose, something she found unsettling because that was not her first time there. How often did she not pay attention? How much of her life had she missed?

Inside of the foyer, straight ahead, were two sets of spiral staircases going each in opposite directions, but still going to the same place: the library. Everything was the colour of white marble and then above her, through the glass ceiling, everything was a brilliant blue hue. The panes casted criss-crossed shadows onto the smooth floor and onto the many people that stood around, taking it all in. Some took photographs with box camera, and one particular man wearing a ridiculous red bowler hat on the far right sign of the room, she noticed, had set up an easel and was oil painting the scene. Aspersed with all of the people were various modern sculptures, paintings, and ads for new exhibits they were having.

Passing it all with a fine-tuned glance, she decided to ascend from the left staircase, making the journey up the magnificent grand staircase that was wrapped along the side of the dome the library sat in. Along the dome were rectangular windows that gazed inside of the library. On the way up, Rose could see glimpses of the shadows of people moving around. She hugged the far right side of the staircase and drug her finger along as she stepped up the stairs, thankful that with all the bustle her shoes didn't embarrassingly echo all the way up.

At the top of the staircase was technically the front of the dome, with a leveled off platform and a grand wooden door that led into the library.

Numerous tables, so many tables, were lined up on the inside of the dome methodically. Each narrow table had the same amount of chairs, the same amount of electric lamps. And against all of the dome, except the portion with the entrance, seemed to be lined with books. Three levels of books were wrapped around the inside, hugging everything that went down below. Off to the sides were decent sized iron staircases leading up to all of the levels, but the levels were so narrowed in with the shelves and the railing, that she had a hunch only staff were allowed to the second and third level of books because all of the visitors she saw were sitting at the long tables reading or doing tedious work of some sort. At the very center was a circular information desk with an excessive amount of lamps. Only one lady stood behind, and that was the woman who approached Rose as she stood uncertainly at one side of the desk.

"Miss? Do you need helping finding a book?" the woman with a red, childlike, French center part bob asked her at a low librarian sort of volume, setting down a stack of books.

"Actually, I was wondering if you could help me find a person who works here?" she copied her tone. "His name is Dr. John Smith. He's a mate of mine."

A knowing smirk spread across her face as she quickly walked behind the counter and approached Rose. "Are you Rose Tyler?" she grinned. Rose noticed she was dressed horrid, with a purple knit gown, an ill-fitting cream sweater, and-dear lord-white stockings with black shoes.

"I am…" Rose affirmed warily. "Who are you?"

The librarian stuck out her hand and shook Rose's. "I'm Donna, and John has told me so much about you."

"Is he here? Is he busy? Maybe I should just go," she regretted hectically.

"No! Of course not!" Donna's voice raised just a hair. "He's just in his office. I'll go fetch him, so stay right here and I'll be back," she smiled and quickly rushed off.

Rose nervously bit her lip and leaned her back against the counter, noting that Donna seemingly disappeared in thin sight. This created confusion in her as she began to search for any door leading to any kind of "office". She couldn't find any.

#

If 5 was in that row, then another 5 couldn't be in that box. The Doctor furiously erased the second 5. And then, if 1 was already in that column, then another 1 couldn't be in the row underneath. He erased once again and brushed off the stray pieces. Growing frustrated, he decided to just erase the whole thing, smearing all of the lead from the pencil around. "Bollocks," he muttered under his breath.

A knock on his door made him look up. "Come in." He then directed his attention back to the puzzle and tore the page from the book, wadded it up, and tossed it across the room at the door as it opened.

"Oi!" Donna exclaimed, picking up the wad of paper and chucking it back at him. He dodged it, and barely flinched as he began work on another page. "What the hell are you doing?"

"If you cannot tell, _Donna_," Dr. Smith said through gritted teeth as he lividly scribbled numbers down, "I am doing my magic squares."

"What the bloody hell is that?" she walked across the small office and leaned over the front of his desk to see what he was doing. She saw bunches of ink-drawn boxes in a small notebook filled with random numbers.

He looked up from his notebook and rested his pencil in the crook of his ear. "Magic squares was first published in the French newspaper, Le Siècle, in 1892. But, of course, it was horribly hard to calculate and required actual arithmetic. So, La France redesigned it and published their first piece in 1895, the same design I read while in Paris. But unfortunately after the war they stopped-"

Donna held up a hand stopping him from continuing his babbling. "I'm gonna stop you right there, partly because I stopped caring, but mostly because I thought you'd like to know that you have a visitor waiting for you by the information desk."

"A visitor?" he asked, confused, going back to his puzzle.

She narrowed her eyes at his obvious lack of interest. "Yeah," she said, "I think her name's something like Tulip?" Donna shook her head and pretended to think deeply. "No, or maybe it was Petunia…."

The Doctor's head snapped up and he slowly put down his notebook. "Do you mean Rose?"

"Hm, maybe…" she began. "Yes!" she then cried, marching around his desk to shove him. "Dear lord, you bloody daft robot, she's been waiting out there for you while you've been playing with fucking numbers!"

Not even bothering to listen to Donna anymore, the Doctor slowly rose from his desk. She had come the day after she had asked, which meant she couldn't wait more than twenty-four hours to see him again. Rose Tyler was out in the main reading room, waiting for _him_. Suddenly a wave of nervousness washed over him as he turned around and looked at Donna. "Dear lord, no, this isn't good at all," he mumbled.

"What? What are you babbling about?" she harshly questioned, putting her hands on her hips.

"Look at me, Donna!" The Doctor pointed to his thin glasses and stubbly face. "I wasn't expecting a beautiful woman today!"

Donna rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks space man, what am I? Chop liver?"

"I can't go out there and speak to the most brilliant and fantastic person I've ever met looking like a homeless man who enjoys a nice cuppa!" he exclaimed, running his hands through his crazy hair.

"John, if this lady didn't care about you, she wouldn't be sticking her foot out for you," she attempted to explain.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Sticking her foot out?"

Donna's hand smacked her forehead. "It's just an expression," she replied, exhausted by his cluelessness. "If you aren't gonna go out there, please tell me so she can get on her way."

"Oi! I never said I wasn't gonna go out there!" the Doctor defended.

"You literally just said-!" she started, but quickly calmed herself down. "You know what? Never mind. I'll be in my own office drowning myself in liquor." Exasperatedly, Donna left his office, loudly slamming the door behind her.

Resting his hands on his hips, the Doctor began to pace back and forth. He couldn't just leave her out there, wondering if he would ever come. But, if he went out there, he could say or do something that might turn her off from him, and he wanted her so badly. Plus, there was the factor of Pete mixed in with everything. When the Doctor was with Rose he always forgot that she was his mate's daughter, and God, what would Pete say about all of that? If the Doctor played his cards right, he hoped to someday shag Rose (oh he so hoped), and he couldn't even imagine how Pete would feel about all of that.

Before he could change his mind, Dr. Smith picked up his long trench and carried it out of his office, shutting the door behind him. On his way out to the main room, he put on the tan coat, adjusting it over his suit.

He stopped behind the staircase, where the offices were hidden, to quickly try and flatten his hair and fix his sideburns. It probably wouldn't make a difference.

And there, as soon as he stepped from out behind the iron staircase, he saw her about fifty metres from him, uneasily fiddling with her bag. He stopped and proceeded to admire her from the distance he stood. She was leaning up against the desk and looking off in another direction, probably thinking about whether or not he was going to emerge from his office or not. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he proceeded towards her, not noticing anything he walked past, only her figure ahead.

Rose turned towards him as he closed in on her, a wide smile making its way across her face. She held up her gloved hand and gently waved at him, mouthing a "hi".

"Rose Tyler," he spoke once he arrived in front of her, "you came."

"Of course I did, Doctor, I couldn't last one more second without seeing you," Rose looked up at him, her eyes roaming around his face.

An awkward silence lasted for a few moments. "So," the Doctor started, "how have you been since I last saw you?"

"Sleeping mostly," Rose laughed.

The Doctor nodded, noticing how a few strands of Rose's hair framed her face and how she wore bright red lipstick that made her skin glow. He let out a shaky breath.

"You look tired," she observed.

"Yeah, I've spent most of my day working," the Doctor explained, tugging on his ear.

"Oh." Rose made a culpable face. "I didn't know you were busy. I'm sorry; I'll let you get back to work then."

She began to turn, but the Doctor rested a gentle hand on her forearm, surprising her. "No, I…I want you to stay so I can show you around. I'm glad you came."

He gave her soft smile that made her heart flutter. "Okay," she nodded. "What first?"

"How about we explore the nonfiction section first, Rose Tyler?" he proposed, closely watched her eyes to try and gauge a reaction to his suggestion.

"We could," she nodded, "but, I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the decimal system-at all." Rose looked at the Doctor sheepishly.

He gave her a reassuring wide grin and cheerily replied: "No bother on that! That's so easy to learn! Allons-y!"

The Doctor then rushed off towards the narrow staircases, leaving Rose to stare at the back of his head dubiously, before pattering her heels after him.

"The zeros are for things of general knowledge, like bibliographies, encyclopedias, catalogs, magazines, journals, serials, and things of the like," he rambled, beginning to ascend the staircase. Rose stopped abruptly at the first step, looking up at the Doctor as he practically bounced up, unsure if she was allowed up to the elevated book levels. "Next are the-"

"Dr. Smith," she interjected, making him turn around and realise she was still at the bottom.

"What's wrong?" he asked with a concerned look on his face. "Do you not want to explore the nonfiction? We can do whatever you like."

She shook her head and rested a hand on the stairway railing. "Am I allowed to go up there with you?"

"Well…," he tossed his head back and forth, "-not usually. For safety reasons and such. Apparently people like to lean too far over the railing and plummet down a story or two." He let out a silent laugh, but noticing Rose's wariness, immediately ceased. "You're my special guest, so it's alright," he elaborated, taking another go at answering the question.

Rose hesitated, but slowly began to follow him up.

Dr. Smith turned around and smiled to himself before continuing up. "Next are the 100s, which are your various philosophical and psychological topics-quite an interesting section I might add. The subjects are limitless. Then we have the 200s which are reserved for religions, and blimey, we have them all. Buddhism, Islam, Judaism, Christianity, Hinduism, the Bahá'í Faith…then onto extinct religions like Greek and Roman mythology." He exited the staircase at the second level, waiting for Rose with a hand extended. "The 300s cover the ever-broad topic of social sciences. So, things like general statistics, political science, economics, education, law, and folklore are found in the 300s. Then the 400s are pretty simple; they cover languages. So, if you ever wanted to learn another language, I can help you with that. I stopped looking in that section years ago, to be quite honest."

Rose climbed the last few steps and grasped his hand primly as he helped her onto the level. "Why did you stop looking?" she asked, letting her hand drop back to her side.

"Well, because I'm fluent in ten languages. I decided that I should round it off rather nicely and move onto something else," he answered simply, shrugging.

"Ten languages?!" Rose exclaimed, astounded at the thought of knowing how to speak in ten different languages.

"Sure…English of course, then French, Spanish, Arabic, Latin, German, Swahili, Welsh, Portuguese…oh and Russian. That one's new, not very good at it yet. But, it was a shame I had to stop; I was really looking forward to learning Swedish," he sighed in discontentment.

Rose shook her head in awe. "I'm sorry; I thought you told me you spoke ten languages." Jackie had made her learn French and Welsh during her schooling, but essentially against her will…so it was safe to say Rose was dreadful at both.

"Then we have the 500s, my favourite section of them all: the sciences!" the Doctor ignored Rose's shock and chose to guide her along the narrow space between the book shelves and the nearly hazardous railing. "We have astronomy, maths, physics, geology, fossils, chemistry, botany, biology, zoology, yada yada yada," he waved his hand in dismissal of all of the possibilities.

"So, can you speak to me in Swahili?" Rose asked, still trying to wrap her brain around the thought of having to make space in your mind for ten different languages.

The Doctor exasperatedly grabbed Rose's wrist and softly tugged her along at a quicker speed. "Hebu kwenda, Rose Tyler!"

They passed by a bookcase of shelves and shelves of various books and he pointed at them with his other hand. "600s. Technology. Boring unless you like factories," he explained with a shrug. Continuing on brisk, the Doctor pointed to another bookcase. "700s. The arts. Books with pictures of famous painting and sculptures, books about the history of music, books educating on how to make furniture and design interiors." He pointed at another. "800s! Poetry and sonnets and plays and such! Such a fun category!"

The Doctor abruptly stopped at a bookcase and looked at it with a soft smile, inciting Rose to closely examine the shelf, wondering what could be on it. "The 900s. History and Travel. You can learn about all of the different countries and never have to leave London," he enlightened, with admiration on his face.

"But, I thought the 500s were your favourite, Doctor," she pondered, turning her attention to study his face.

"Yes, of course," he replied, still a bit distracted. He visually leafed through all of the books; trying to discover one that would stand out to him so he could, hopefully, impress Rose.

"So, why are we stopped at this one?"

Breaking his attention away from the bookshelves, the Doctor looked down at Rose and grinned. "Because this is your favourite."

She shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

"I remember you going on and on to me when you were younger, fascinated by all of the places I'd been…China, India, South Africa, America, Brazil….and you told me that when you got to be my age you'd have gone to all of those places and more, telling me how you were gonna be the first human in outer space," he explained, letting go of Rose's wrist to reach and grab a book from the shelf, then thrusting it in her hands. "_Mars and its Canals_," he presented, smiling widely, eyes desperately searching Rose's face for a reaction. When he couldn't find one, he panicked and decided to backtrack. "I know the theory of an extinct civilization on Mars was disproved by William Wallace Campbell, but it's still a fascinating read. But, you don't have to read it of course, if you don't want to, it is terribly long and over-exhaustive, but I thought you would like the possibility of it all."

"Doctor," Rose wondered, opening the book and leafing through a few pages. "Is that why you were reading those books that afternoon when you came to the pool looking for dad?" she murmured, looking up at him and biting her lip. When the Doctor sucked in a breath, she continued: "Were you reading those books because you knew I liked that sort of stuff?"

His face grew heated as he began to tug on his earlobe anxiously. "I didn't do it to purposefully show off to you or anything," he clarified, wobbly. "I wanted a reason to speak to you…something in common we could discuss….but then you started talking to me before I was ready…and things changed."

She let out a small laugh. "Why? I'm not anything special. I'm the one who needs to study up in order to talk to you." The Doctor must have been kidding; he was the one with an eight-year college education, a fluency in ten languages, and amazing hair (she had to add). How he remembered a conversation the two had over ten years ago, a conversation she didn't even recollect, made her head spin. He was so shy and apprehensive around her (except for the fabulous snog he gave her yesterday of course, which must have been a doppelganger because it was so out of character) and it made Rose wonder if the Doctor had deeper feelings for her than she originally thought. What she initially recognised as most likely lust or infatuation on his part, turned into a sort of…well…_love_.

"Rose Tyler, you will always be special to me," he murmured, shyly tucking his hands into his trench pockets.

Moments passed as the pair gazed at each other, both with chagrin looks on their faces. Rose carefully tucked the book to her side and gently cupped the Doctor's face with her free hand. "Why have I never noticed before?" she whispered, her eyes fixed on his.

"Noticed what?" the Doctor thickly choked out.

_That I love you_, Rose thought automatically and then quickly shook that confession out of her head. She couldn't tell him that, especially since she had no clue whether or not he loved her. Sure, he did snog her, but snogging didn't require love. Quickly wracking her brain for a valid statement should give him, she managed to come up with: "That you're my best mate." Not a lie, just not the complete truth.

On the inside, the Doctor's heart sank hearing her answer. He really shouldn't have been so disappointed, because he would also call them great mates, but he wanted more than that….against his better judgement. He spent all of the previous night thinking about snogging Rose, and he realised that she was the first woman he had ever really ever thought about. He couldn't get the feel of her lips out of his head, or the shape of her smile, or the way she would stick her tongue in between her teeth whenever she laughed at something he said. He had thought she was going to answer his question with: "That I love you." But, now he just thought he was dreaming. Rose Tyler didn't love him; she was probably just confused by him.

Before the past week, the Doctor was just a man she rarely ever saw, rarely ever spoke to. Now, they spoke almost every day, and _flirted_. A pit in his stomach grew as he understood how he was taking advantage of her. She was only nineteen years old, and he was an older, accomplished man who was completely different than all of the suitors her mum drug in every day. He felt terrible about it all; Rose didn't have any real feelings towards him like he had for her, she was infatuated with him in a sort of sick and twisted hero/damsel way. He needed to pull back from her, and fast, before she did something she would regret later in life (and before Pete found out and killed him).

When the Doctor didn't keep the conversation rolling, Rose quickly gave him a soft smile to break the silence. "Well, now that you got to pick a book for me, now it's my turn!"

The Doctor forced a happy look on his face and entered himself into the conversation. "Well, we have plenty of books for you! I'll take you downstairs to the-"

She shook her head and cut him off. "No, I mean, now it's my turn to pick out a book for you!"

"Rose, I've read every book in this library," he protested, confused on why she was so adamant about picking out a book for him.

"Perhaps, but I wanted to show you one of my favourites."

The Doctor hesitated, ready to open his mouth and give her a long speech on how their relationship was completely, and irrevocably, inappropriate, and how he had these feelings for her he couldn't define, and how she could never love him like he loved her….but then she stuck her pink tongue in between her teeth and the Doctor followed her down the stairs dutifully.

#

"_Peter and Wendy_," Rose declared, pointing to a worn book on the shelf.

The Doctor and his companion stood then on the first floor: the fiction section. He gave her a knowing grin before stepping up beside her and plucking the book off the shelf to look at the illustrated cover. In a dull dark green ink, on the left side of the title, was a picture of Captain Hook, on the opposite side Tiger Lily, and up above, Peter Pan.

"By J.M. Barrie, illustrations by F.D. Bedford," she continued, grinning up at him. "Do you like it? Have you read it?"

Amused, he took his eyes off of the book and locked them on Rose's. "Yes, I believe I have, a few years back."

"I remember my dad got me an early edition of the book because I liked _The Little White Bird _and _Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens_ so much, so I got to read it on my ninth birthday." She paused and looked off to the side for a moment before glancing back to him. "I wanted to know if you could read it to me some other time, perhaps. I still have my copy up in the attic, and you could come over and read it to me, 'cause I really enjoyed you reading Alice to me, by the way, thank you for that. You don't have to read Peter Pan to me, but I wouldn't be terribly upset if you didn't," she smiled, nervously fingering the copy of _Mars and its Canals _in her hands.

Rose wanted him to say yes so badly, she grew nervous. All she could hear in her mind the night before was his low voice reading to her. She played that afternoon over and over again, trying to fall asleep, but finding she couldn't. She wanted so badly to feel his warm torso wrapped around her in her bed-to fall asleep and wake up to the Doctor.

"Rose," he whispered, laying the book on the shelf. Everything was beginning to spiral terribly out of control for the Doctor. Now, she was practically asking him to cover of her house, unaccompanied, and read her a book, which led to _snogging_ last time. What would happen this time around? What if Pete came home? Bollocks, what if _Jackie_ came home? His head would be served at high tea. This is when it would take all of his self-control to look Rose in the eye and refuse something he wanted so, so badly. "I can't."

"Well, why not?" She blinked back tears and refused to look away from him.

The Doctor began to tug on his ear, quickly looking anywhere else but at Rose. "Because…this has gone on long enough, I think."

"Oh, you think, do you?" her lips trembled. "You invited _me_ here. You kept the conversations going. _You snogged_ _me_."

A stray tear fell down Rose's face, and he instantly felt guilty, rubbing his hands exasperatedly across his lower face. "This is becoming inappropriate, and I was wrong to do the things I did. I took advantage of you, and I am incredibly sorry."

"I would angrily walk away," she said hoarsely, "but I'm afraid you wouldn't follow me like you did yesterday. So, I'm going to bloody stand here until you tell me you're sorry for trying to shut me out!"

"I'm not the man you think I am, Rose. I'm not your boyfriend."

She narrowed her eyes. "I never thought you were."

"Please, Rose," he pleaded, frowning.

"No, I won't leave you. I need you. We're mates. You know? I have no one else, and you can't take that away from me."

The Doctor drew himself up against Rose and clasped her wrist intently. "If I don't end this, your father will," he breathed lowly.

"End what? It's like you said, Doctor: you aren't my boyfriend," she smugly remarked, jerking her wrist away from him. "Now, you'll come by my house in a few days and read me my story, and we'll talk and have fun and do things that best mates do."

The side of his mouth twitched and he replied: "You know, for a man you aren't courting, you do seem to have me whipped."

"There is no such thing as a man who isn't, mum always says," she laughed, her eyes twinkling. The Doctor was glad to see her tears had vanished.

He groaned in response, "The day I believe a word Jackie Tyler says is the day I keel over."

Rose playfully hit him with the book in her hands.

"If you're keen to hitting me now, I guess I won't take you out for tea, Rose Tyler," the Doctor pretended to wince while rubbing his arm.

"I can get tea at home, Dr. Smith. It needs to be worth my while," she flashed him a grin.

"All I can offer you is my company."

"Then that sounds fantastic."

#

The Doctor and Rose sat across from each other underneath the paned glass ceiling, with cups of tea, smoked salmon sandwiches, and Victoria sponge cakes in front of them. Patrons sat all around them, with the waiters bustling back and forth. _Mars and its Canals _sat near the edge of their table.

"So, is the library always that empty?" she asked, taking a sip of her tea.

The Doctor noisily clanked his spoon against the edge of his cup, drying it, before setting it down on his saucer. "Pretty much, yeah," he nodded.

"So, it's just you and Donna, then?"

"Yep," he replied, popping his 'p' roughly, "Just me and Mrs. Donna Noble. Well, sometimes the museum curator, Mrs. Smith, no relation, surprisingly, will pop in, but other than that….just me and Donna."

Rose shook her head in disbelief. "Don't you ever get lonely?"

"Oh no, I have Donna."

She grinned at his cluelessness, trying again with: "No, I mean, don't you ever get lonely outside of her?"

"Well, now I have you," he shrugged simply, avoiding her eye contact by playing with his sponge cake.

"Yes, and a few minutes ago you were about ready to end it all and send me packing," Rose scolded, still a touch cross with him.

"It's not like I wanted to, Rose," he replied lowly.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're afraid of my dad."

"No-well yes,-but that's not really all of it."

Rose's eyebrows rose about a metre on her face as she slowly lowered her tea cup in shock. "Wait-what?"

"You know, what I've been thinking, Rose?" The Doctor rambled on, ignoring her completely. "I've been thinking about how I've worked at this library for over almost twenty years now, and that I've read so many books about traveling, and that I've never been to some of the places I've read."

His plan was to distract Rose from the question he had asked, and it worked as she quickly scoffed. "Oh, please! You've been to all of these sorts of places! Cape Town, India, New York, Egypt, Barcelona-"

"Barcelona is very lovely this time of year too," the Doctor interrupted with an index finger raised.

"And I've never been!" she gestured with her hands widely.

"Where have you been?"

"Well, I've been to Cardiff and Glasgow, naturally, and Paris-so beautiful, I would love to go back-but, anywhere my mum wouldn't step foot in, I haven't been."

"Oi!" he exclaimed, "What's your mum got against Barcelona then?"

"She doesn't speak any Spanish," Rose sighed, weary.

Dr. Smith rested his head on his palm and stared off, dreamily. "That's the fun of it though! Going to a strange new place, not understanding a lick of what anyone is saying….it's always an adventure."

"Maybe someday you can take me to Barcelona," she blushed, biting her lip and looking at him expectantly.

Quickly straightening his back and nodding his head, the Doctor affirmed: "Oh, yes, Rose Tyler, maybe someday I will."

"But only as mates," Rose teased, sticking her tongue in between her teeth.

He cleared his throat and tapped his forehead. "Right."

_Not right_, the Doctor couldn't help but think as he ended his day out with Rose and walked her back up to the reading room to meet up with her driver. _Very wrong_.


	4. The Unrequited Dinner

Listen to: "Ye Banks and Braes O' Bonnie Doon" by Percy Grainger or "It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World" by James Brown

* * *

_**Chapter IV: The Unrequited Dinner**_

* * *

With all of this talk about mates, Rose was quite sure the snogging the Doctor had given her meant absolutely nothing-if anything, hormones that had gone wild. No romantic feelings, no sexual feelings: a fluke incident that cannot be grouped with the rest of their activities. An outlier. Maybe, the Doctor sometimes snogged his friends Donna and Sarah Jane, and they didn't think anything of it, because maybe that was just what he did. Rose knew he had never been married or anything, so he probably just had to "let loose" every now and then, and she had just happened to be there (not to mention, she really instigated it all).

Frustrated in overanalyzing her strange relationship with Dr. Smith, she ironically threw herself into _Mars and its Canals _(she had started to get in the habit of carrying the Oxford Dictionary around with her when planning to read the book). After two days since her visit to the library, she was only at Part II: 200 pages or so into the whole book.

_A mile or two we may take, then, with safety as the smallest width for one of the lines. The greatest was got by comparing what is by far the largest canal, the Nilosyrtis, with the micrometer thread. From such determination it appeared that this canal was from 25 to 30 miles wide. But it is questionable whether the Nilosyrtis can properly-_

She shut the book; angry at her inability to concentrate on anything about the Nilocircus, or whatever the hell it was called, and tossed it onto the center table in front of her.

"Rose, get your hat, we're going to dinner with Mr. Harkness and his colleague," Jackie Tyler's rang as she swept into the room in a fuss with her purse on her shoulder.

"And I thought I already told you I wasn't gonna go, mum," she snapped back.

Her mother sped around the couch to stand in front of her. "Oh, you're going all right." Jackie roughly threw Rose's hat into her lap. "Your father's already in the car waiting. Now, get up and go freshen up before we go. What you're wearing is fine, I suppose, the restaurant is dark anyways." She studied Rose's plain black frock with a discontented gaze.

"You know, I'm starting to think that _you_ are fond of Mr. Harkness," Rose countered, her mouth smirking slightly to the side.

"Oh, of course I am! You should be too! I heard he makes half of what your father makes! Imagine what he'll make in ten years!"

Rose rolled her eyes, but proceeded to put on the black cloche hat. "You know money isn't everything," she said.

Her mum laughed loudly. "Yeah, says the girl who's rich as can be! Oh honey, how funny you can be."

She narrowed her eyes at her mother's downgrading of her. "Dr. Smith seems to do fine with barely any money."

"And yet he doesn't have a wife, making my point precisely. Some people are meant to be alone, Rose. Thank God I've finally found someone for you."

Rose had already found someone for herself, and it certainly was not Mr. Jack Harkness.

#

Her father, her mother, Rose, Mr. Harkness, and Mr. Harkness' colleague met up at a restaurant on the Thames in Lambeth. When the Tyler's arrived, Mr. Harkness and his colleague were already seated at a table on the terrace.

The bright lights of Westminster twinkled across the water, and Rose couldn't help but to think of the Doctor, probably at his flat now at that hour, across that very river.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" Mr. Harkness stated. He and his colleague stood from the table as the Tyler's walked up. He was quick to walk around and help Rose into her seat….right across from him.

"Yes, it is," Rose sighed.

Mr. Harkness and his colleague sat back down along with Rose's mum and dad, while Rose silently prayed that the night could already be over.

"Mr., Mrs., and Ms. Tyler, this is my colleague Mr. Ianto Jones," Mr. Harkness gestured to his colleague next to him with, Rose could add, a fairly forgettable face.

"Ah, what brings you to London, Mr. Jones?"

"The same thing as my mate here, I suppose," he replied with a Welsh accent, "The sights and such."

Rose inwardly snorted.

Mr. Harkness directed his attention to Rose and said: "Ms. Tyler, you look splendid this evening."

Jackie Tyler nervously watched her daughter as she gave him a curt smile and replied, "Thank you, Mr. Harkness. It's lovely to see you again, as always."

Rose's mum let out a shaky breath and unclenched her hands, feeling confident enough to look away and engage in a conversation with Pete and Mr. Jones.

Mr. Harkness grinned before cautiously looking at Jackie. Whispering, he leaned in closer to Rose, "I know your mom keeps dragging you to these things and all, but I really do like you, and I hope you don't shut me out too quick, 'cause I think once your mom calms a little, I'll be less of chore and more of a hobby for you. If you'd like a new hobby, that is."

He ended with an honest smile that made Rose feel apologetic towards him. Here he was, genuinely interested in her, and Rose had been ill towards him solely on the fact that her mum had chosen him for her. But maybe, Jackie didn't choose him at all. Maybe at the tennis match, Mr. Harkness had approached her mum first, asking her about Rose, instead of what Rose had just assumed from past years with her mum.

"I…I'm sorry. My mum has brought so many men home for me, men that aren't really interested in me, but are interested in my dad's money and the fame and it all…so I treated you unfairly, not knowing the circumstances," Rose wrapped her arms around herself.

"Well, Rose Tyler," he grinned, "I think you're the bee's knees."

"Bee's knees?" she could only laugh, shaking her head at him.

"What? You guys don't say that around here?" Jack asked, humorously.

Rose shook her head again, covering her mouth now as she continued to laugh at the absurd saying.

Down the table, Jackie's head whipped around at the sound and she began to beam, hitting Pete's arm and gesturing towards the chum Mr. Harkness and Rose. Pete gave them a weak glance and continued on with his conversation with Mr. Jones, as Rose's mum gave up on him and started to slowly slide her chair closer to the pair.

"Well, I better get that going while I'm here then," Jack said.

Wiping stray tears away from her eyes, Rose's laughter slowly died out. "I'll be sure to help you make it happen."

"Sounds like a plan," he winked.

#

When the waiter came to take their soup orders after pouring them all Cabernet Sauvignon, Rose and Jack had migrated to the topic of travel, and he was naming off all of the places he had been.

"And I've also been to parts of Alps and the Himalayas. Once you get near the top, the view is indescribable," he explained.

"Really?" Rose asked, her head resting on her knuckles. "Can you describe it to me?"

"Well, from the Alps, you see endless valleys of grasslands, spread out beneath. And in the horizon, numerous peaks with snowy tips line the sky." She made a face of fascination, so he continued, "And in the Himalayas, the valleys are much narrower and deeper-more crevasse like. The grass is duller and the mountains are much taller-and more jagged-looking. But still just as beautiful."

Rose smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but the waiter's voice emerged making her and Jack chuckle softly.

"May I take appetiser orders?" the waiter asked, standing near Mr. Jones and Pete.

Mr. Jones set down his menu and looked up at the waiter. "I'll have the Devonshire Crab."

"I want that also," Pete nodded, still leafing through the thin menu.

The waiter nodded and looked expectantly at Jackie who bit her lip in deep thought. "Is your Lettuce Soup too terribly thick?" she asked.

Jack and Rose shot each other amused, but irritated glances-Rose scrunching up her nose and sticking her tongue between her teeth.

"It contains lettuce leaves, trimmed onions, milk, and chicken stock, Mrs. Tyler," the waiter explained.

"Hm," Jackie started.

"Love, please just pick something," Pete grumbled, sending an apologetic look to the waiter.

"Alright, I'll have the Lettuce Soup then," Rose's mum narrowed her eyes at Pete.

Her dad mouthed "thank you" to the heavens and got back to browsing the menu.

"And for the gentleman and the lady?" the waiter asked, moving down the table.

Jack gestured towards Rose, who just then had bothered to even open the menu. "Um, sorry, I wasn't paying much attention to anything," she blushed, squinting her eyes at the menu.

Down the table, Jackie Tyler smiled smugly, feeling rather good about herself.

"I'll have the Prawn Bisque, thank you," she announced, setting down the menu and smiling softly at Jack.

"And I'll have the Cheese and Onion Soup, please," Jack said, keeping his eyes locked with Rose's.

"Quite," the waiter bowed his head. "I'll be back shortly with your orders," he told the group before walking off.

"Quite? I believe he doesn't like a good ole' Yankee, does he?" Jack smirked, playfully.

"Maybe it's because you ordered a British dish while they serve American soups," she cocked an eyebrow.

"Or perhaps he's jealous because I'm with the most beautiful gal in Greater London," Jack countered, raising his wine glass.

Rose chuckled and let her eyebrows precariously rise. "Greater London?"

"Well, Mary Miles Minter is absolutely stunning as well."

"Oh, you mean the actress who looks _very_ similar to me?"

"The very one, Ms. Rose Tyler."

#

"So, where did you attend school?" Jack asked Rose as he gently blew on his soup.

Rose swallowed the soup she had put in her mouth and wiped her mouth before replying: "Wycombe Abbey in Buckinghamshire."

"How did you like that?"

She smirked at him and said, "It was very dull, Jack, to say the least."

"I would mention how pleasing it was to hear you say my first name, but I think that might scare you off, so I'll comment on how of course it was dull, because there weren't any boys to occupy you," he leaned forward and let his hand lightly brush across hers as he reached for his water glass. Yet, instead of being giddy about how the ever-so attractive Jack Harkness purposefully touched her hand, all she could think about was how she had only ever called the Doctor by his first name once. Would he like to her say his name as much as Jack did? The more she thought about it, the stranger it became to refer to the Doctor as John in her mind. For her whole life he had also been Dr. Smith: dad's mate. So, shortening it to "The Doctor" gave it a sort of intimacy, but still kept Rose's recognition with him being Dr. Smith: dad's mate. But, perhaps that's what she needed. She needed to separate the Doctor from Dr. Smith. The Doctor was John: Rose' mate. Or maybe he wasn't Dr. Smith, but the Doctor: Rose's mate. That began to make her head spin so she quickly downed half of her glass of wine, earning a wary glance from Jack. "Are you alright?"

Rose immediately nodded. "Yeah, I'm just suddenly a bit dizzy that's all."

"So, you decide to drink some wine," Jack laughed. "You really are my kind of girl, aren't you?"

She half-heartedly grinned, setting the glass down and swiftly decided to change the subject. "Where did you go to school, then?"

"Well, I grew up in southern Florida on the beach, rather poor I should say, so I went to a public school in my town," he explained.

"So how did you end up all the way in Cardiff?" Rose crossed her legs underneath the table, the tip of her leather T-straps oh-so briefly sweeping across his pant leg.

Feeling her, he licked his lips and leaned back in his chair. "It's a hell of a story, I should say."

Looking up from underneath her lashes, Rose mellifluously smiled at him. "Maybe you can tell me some other time."

"So this night is going well, then?" Jack asked, expectantly.

She shrugged teasingly. "Well, we haven't gotten to our entrées. You could still mess up."

"Then to hoping I don't," he laughed, raising his wine glass in a toast.

"To hoping you don't," she giggled, copying to him.

#

"I've been reading a lot lately," Rose declared to Jack, experimentally, during the entrée course. She was interested in his views on women who were knowledgeable, and wanted to see if he, like the Doctor, was fine with such.

"Have you?" Jack asked after swallowing a bite of his Goat's Cheese with Pears and Chicory salad.

With his vague response, Rose was still unsure of his opinion about her statement. "Yes," she said, settling her napkin in her lap. "Right now I'm reading _Mars and its Canals_."

He thought for a brief moment to himself before casually replying: "Hm, can't say I've read that one. Tell me about it."

Pleasantly affirmed by him, Rose smiled inwardly. Perhaps he wasn't half-bad after all. "It's a researched, opinionated, book by Percival Lowell who claimed that life existed on Mars millions of years ago," she explained.

"And do you think that could be true?"

"Well, what do you think?"

Jack gave an amused lop-sided grin. "Anything's possible. If there were life outside of Earth, in any aspect, I definitely would be interested."

Rose bit her lip and nodded, relieved that he didn't think that it was impossible. "I agree, Mr. Harkness."

"Well, when you finish it, we'll have to meet up so you can tell me how it ends."

"I'd love that."

#

During the main course, Jackie Tyler decided it was high-time to become involved with Jack and Rose's conversation (even though she had been listening the entire time).

"I would love to college somewhere one day," Rose stated, cutting her roast lamb with her knife and dinner fork.

"Where would you like to-" Jack started only to be interrupted by Jackie.

"Oh, my Rose isn't going to college until she's married," Jackie interjected tactlessly.

Jack raised his eyebrows and awkwardly looked back and forth between Jackie and Rose, unsure what to do or say.

"Mum!" Rose growled, whipping her head towards her mother. "I've told you; once I'm married there will be no use of college afterwards!"

Down the table, Pete sensed the arguement brewing between the women and abruptly stopped eating, slowly putting down his fork.

"I don't have a college education, and I'm fine!" Jackie gestured wildly. "Once you marry Mr. Harkness you'll forget all about it!"

Jack, startled, looked towards Pete and Mr. Jones, who both gave him an unsure look of wide eyes.

"You just want me to be like you," Rose flared through gritted teeth. "Well, I'm not. I plan on being so far from you that I'm planning on becoming a man and moving to Mars!"

"Rose!" Jackie gasped, appalled.

Roughly sliding her chair back and standing, Rose huffed, "And yes, I know that didn't make any sense!" before stalking off the terrace of the restaurant, garnering attention from other patrons.

Jackie fretfully fanned herself with her purse. "Well, I never!"

Mr. Harkness slowly stood from his seat, placing his napkin on the table. "I'll be right back with Rose," he said gently, pushing Rose's chair back in before walking off after her.

Mr. Jones looked at Jack as he walked away, then back to the near empty table, before giving an upset face.

"She can be so sporadic," Jackie whined, shaking her head.

"Yes, dear," Pete replied lazily, going back to his meal.

#

Finding Rose was not any sort of feet; Jack found her furiously pacing in front of the bar, exceptionally out of place. He gently rested a hand on her upper arm and leaned in close to her ear from behind, noting lowly, "You know you have to order first."

She, startled, jumped and gasped loudly, turning around to become relieved to find Jack. "Oh! You scared me!"

Jack grinned, taking a step back to give her some space. "Are you alright?" he asked soberly.

A flustered Rose sighed, and rubbed her forehead. "I don't know; I'm sorry about my row with my mum. She knows how to press every button of mine."

"You just don't see eye-to-eye, and that's fine," Jack attempted to brush it off.

She didn't respond, wringing her hands distressed.

"Rose? How about we get a seat at the bar and we talk about? That sound good?" he offered, worried about her.

Suddenly feeling guilty for him leaving his dinner to come and tend to her, Rose shook her head. "No, you don't have to do that. You can go back to your dinner; I'll be fine, just give me a tick, that's all."

Jack blatantly ignored her, sticking a hand out to signal a bartender behind the bar. "Seats for two please right quick, jack, thank you very much," he called to the bartender, holding up two fingers to further his request.

She sighed at him, but not at all annoyed enough to complain, of course. A man was looking out for her…someone other than her father! But, then the Doctor popped into Rose's mind and made her feel guilty all over again, this time for a completely different reason.

A couple of mates rose from the bar and walked away, so the bartender made eye contact with Jack and gestured to the seats.

"Do you wanna to sit down?" Jack asked, holding his hand out in the direction of the bar stools.

Rose softly smirked at him and crossed her arms. "You really want to listen to me carp?"

"Rose Tyler, I'd listen to you read the yellow pages if it meant I got to listen to you," he sincerely avowed, giving her a quick wink.

She grew flustered as her cheeks sprouted red. "Well, if that's the case, you'll be in for a treat then," she nervously laughed, walking over to the seats-Jack following.

Once the two were seated, Jack leaned back in his chair, threading his fingers behind his head. "So, Ms. Tyler, go ahead. I'm all ears."

Rose giggled. "What do you want me to say?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Your story, I guess. What's been bothering you lately?"

"Well," Rose thought, "you were bothering me before about an hour ago."

Jack feigned hurt and covered his heart. "Ouch! You hurt me!"

She rolled her eyes good-heartedly and playfully shoved at him. "Oi, sod off with all of the dramatics."

"Alright, alright, keep going," he held up his hands in surrender.

Rose shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I guess my mum gets under my skin more often than not. But, I'm sort of used to that by, now I guess."

"Then what?" Mr. Harkness tilted his head.

She sighed heavily, tapping her nails on the bar top, antsy. "If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell my mum or dad?"

Jack made a nervous face and leaned in a little closer to Rose. "It depends…is it serious?"

"Oh! No, it's nothing like that!" she assured, furiously shaking her head.

He nodded, letting out a breath of relieved air and a grin.

"It's just….I've developed some probably unrequited feelings for my dad's mate, and it's become rather complicated," she grimaced, looking down at her lap.

A little downhearted, Jack replied: "Oh. Well, if it's unrequited why is it complicated?"

"He snogged me pretty good."

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but a bartender approached on the other side of the bar top. "What can I get the couple to start with?"

A little dazed, Jack turned towards him. "Yes, right. I'll take London Porter and my date will have-"

"A Dubonnet, please," she finished for him, smiling to the bartender.

"'Course Miss, I'll be right back then," he nodded to the couple before departing.

"Sorry, if this is bad question, but how many years…?" Jack let the question linger, uncertain if it was too forward.

"23 years my senior," Rose nodded, biting her lip.

"Did he want a casual relationship, then?"

"Yes-well not like that. We decided to be just mates."

"And do you want to be just mates?"

"No…well, I don't know, really."

"Does he want to be just mates?"

"I haven't really asked him."

Jack placed his hand on his face in deep thought. "Hm, perhaps you should relate all of this to him?"

"Here are your drinks," the bartender startled Rose, loudly placing Jack's beer and her warm honey-coloured cocktail in front of them. "If you need anything else, just ask," he informed the two.

"Thanks, will do," Jack grinned, raising his beer glass towards the man in a toast.

The bartender gave Jack a pointed, attracted look before departing once again.

Rose shook her head in wonderment, silently laughing. "You really charm _everyone _don't you?"

Taking a big slug from the cold bottle, he shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he poorly denied, setting the glass bottle back onto the bar top with a quick contented "ahh".

She rolled her eyes, but still gave a soft smile.

"But, really, Rose, you need to talk to this jack about whatever you need to get off your chest," Jack advised in all seriousness.

"I know," she murmured, running her fingertip along the rim of her drink's glass.

He took Rose's hand in his and ran his thumb along the side, then tilting his head so the two could make deep eye contact-she noting how spectacularly his sapphire blue eyes looked in against the warm dim lights from behind the bar's shelves. "Now, I am horribly stuck on you, Rose, and I would like to request to court you, if you'd say yes, of course," Jack asked her, a smile growing on his face.

Rose swore she could hear her own heartbeat in that moment. Courting Jack? No, that was all wrong; she wanted to be with the Doctor, the man with the beautiful hair and the wire glasses and the skinny arse and all of the books and all of the stories….not this equally as fascinating man who was just as handsome in a completely different way-a man who confessed his desire to be with her, unlike the Doctor. What would he say if he found out that she was with Jack? Rose stopped herself at that point in her thoughts and scolded herself. Why should she bloody care how he might react? If they were truly mates, he shouldn't even care!

Therefore, almost immediately after Jack asked Rose if he could court her, Rose, almost too enthusiastically, responded: "Yes! That sounds like a brilliant idea!"

"Are you sure? You don't have to say yes Rose. If you think your mate might-" he started, before she interrupted him.

"No. If he's my mate, then he shouldn't care. Right?" she affirmed strongly.

Hesitating to gauge Rose's face carefully, he warily replied, "Yes, that's right."

She firmly took her glass of liquor, downing nearly all of it, and then clanked! it back on the bar top. "Then we have nothing to worry about it, then, Mr. Harkness."

He nervously smiled at her while eyeing the drained glass.

#

The two returned to their table after deciding to not make a fuss about their new relationship, for all of their ears sake. Rose planned on telling her father later about the news, and then he could tell Jackie if he wished. There was no desire in either Rose or Jack's minds to tell Jackie Tyler so she could squeal and shout and be as gauche as always.

When she and he sat back down in their seats, Mr. Jones looked relieved, immediately striking up a conversation with Jack and Pete, leaving Rose and her mother to look at each other expectantly.

"Look, Rose, I'm sorry I went off on you. If you want to go to college, and your husband is fine with that, then I shouldn't say anything to you about it," Rose's mum apologised, almost forcibly.

Rose managed to restrain an eye roll at her mother's not-so remorseful apology (if it could even be called that). "I'm sorry I said such horrible things to you, that I didn't mean," she managed.

"Oh, Rose," Jackie blubbered, leaning across the space in-between them to roughly hug Rose, burying her face in Rose's chest.

Rose sighed, but still wrapped her arms around her mum and hugged her back anyways.

Jack glanced over at Rose and Jackie and couldn't help but smile at the way Rose grimaced, but still didn't fuss.

#

While Jackie went to the loo, Mr. Jones and Pete took that time to retrieve the cars from valet, leaving Jack and Rose standing in the courtyard off to themselves.

"Your favourite part of the meal is the appetiser?" Jack grimaced at Rose, confused on how it was dessert, like his.

"I just think that if the appetisers are good, then the rest of the meal will be too," she shrugged. "It sets the stage, I suppose."

He pretended to be deep in thought, stroking his chin. "Hmm, I guess that does make some sort of sense. But most women like chocolate."

Laughing, she teasingly shoved at his arm. "Well, I'm not like most women, you should know that."

Jack grew serious and admired her with his eyes. "Yes, I know, Rose Tyler."

"When will I next see you?" she asked, placing her hands in his and grasping them strongly.

"I think I'll make it a surprise," he winked, leaning in and pressing his lips lightly against Rose's. He pulled them away so fast, that she only felt a light brush of skin against her lips.

"Did you just kiss me without asking first?" Rose gave Jack a sideways smirk, placing her hands on her hips.

He shrugged and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. "Depends, I suppose. Are you mad?"

She bit her lip and softly replied: "I think I might be cross only because it didn't last as long as it should have."

Jack opened his mouth to flirt back, but Rose roughly grabbed his lapels and dragged him towards her, planting her lips onto his. He took his hands out of his pockets and brought them up to cup the sides of Rose's face, as he tilted his head to get a better angle.

Their lips moved against each other's slowly and gently; Jack purposefully holding back, but Rose unsure of what she was doing with him. Not because she didn't know how to properly snog someone, but because while her lips were smooth and languid against his, her mind was reeling-comparing Jack to the Doctor, of course. There was nothing particularly wrong with the kiss she was having with Jack, he certainly was gentle with her-stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. But, there was nothing happening within her stomach, and what she meant by that, was that with the Doctor there was something in the pit of her that felt queasy, but hot at the same time. It made her feel pity for the man who cared about her so dearly; who had no idea that she thought another man was better for her.

Jack easily pulled back from Rose and looked down at her, grinning. "You look so beautiful tonight," he murmured, brushing the side of her hair with his fingers.

"When will you see me again?" she asked, not even bearing to look him in his eyes.

"It won't be spontaneous if I tell you, Rose Tyler," he laughed before embracing her in a sweeping hug, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around.

Rose giggled at the motion, making out: "Bloody hell! Jack!"

And in that moment, she decided that perhaps the proposal of this man made him better than the other.


	5. Barcelona's Promise

Listen to: Night Time by Alexandre Desplat or "It All Depends on You" by Ruth Etting

* * *

_**Chapter V: Barcelona's Promise**_

* * *

It was noon the next day when the Doctor finally visited Rose, presumably waiting until when he knew Pete and Jackie would be out at a luncheon for Pete's company.

Rose had just risen from bed and was eating a light lunch when the doorbell rang and the Doctor soon walked into the day room.

"Rose," he acknowledged, notably without the trench coat.

"It's quite rude to interrupt a meal without proper communication of arrival, Doctor," she raised her eyebrows.

"Yes, I believe I did not bid sufficient notice. I apologise."

There was silence between the two. The Doctor noted the simple dusty-rose shift Rose wore as she seemed to look everywhere else in the daylight-washed room but at him.

"Would you care for an adventure with Peter Pan?" he shakily proposed, unsure of why she was acting so strangely.

"I'm dating Mr. Harkness," Rose quickly put forth, her eyes shooting up to meet the Doctor's from across the room.

He tilted his head at her and squinted. "I'm sorry, dating? I thought you said dating…what did you say?"

A bit more strongly this time, she nodded. "Yes, I believe that is what I said. Last night I went out to dinner with him and he asked for my permission for him to court me, and I said yes."

His heart feeling suddenly constricted and suffocated, the Doctor pressed on with: "I thought you didn't fancy Mr. Harkness."

"I never told you I didn't fancy him, Dr. Smith," she said.

Unsure of how to put his disagreement with Rose's situation with Mr. Harkness into terms that were neither offensive nor ill-placed, he nervously tapped his fingers on the back of his head. The Doctor had not the faintest idea on whether to feel horribly pissed off or betrayed by the woman who he was under the impression fancied him and not some Yankee with an expensive suit and blue eyes. What had turned Rose so terribly off from him? Was it something he had done? Something he could not offer her? Her parents, perhaps? Swallowing his feelings about everything, he plastered on a faux pleasant expression. "Right. Well, I'm sure he will treat you well. How long will he be staying here in London?"

Rose's heart slowly sank as he kept speaking, until she miserably replied: "I'm not sure; I'll have to ask him."

Painfully smiling, the Doctor bowed. "I'll let myself out, then."

No, that wasn't what Rose wanted to happen at all. She wanted him to fight for her-to tell her how he really felt about her. How did everything suddenly get so horribly wrong? The Doctor wasn't supposed to be bowing out of her life like that; he was supposed to finally confess what she had thought she had previously known about him. But, maybe he didn't feel that way after all? "Aren't you gonna say somethin'"? she rushed out, hurriedly, and then looked expectantly at the back of his head, waiting for him to turn back around.

A heavy sigh came from John, but he still had yet to turn. "Say what, Rose?"

"Say I made a mistake and that you're meant for me, and all that." Tears began to painfully well up in her eyes, threatening to fall.

"Why would I say that? I'm sure you two are swell together."

A slow stabbing entered Rose's chest as she gasped in surprise from his unforeseen remark. "Swell?" her voice became shrill (not unlike her mother's) as she grew angry at not only him, but also at her own self for believing she ever had had anything with the Doctor. "Doctor, have you forgotten that you snogged _me_? You've spent all of these days with _me_! Was I nothing to you?"

At that, he finally turned around, only to give Rose a half-hearted smile. "Rose Tyler, you're my best mate's daughter, and I loved spending time with you. I hope you can return to the library soon and we can spend time together again."

Tears unabashedly streamed down Rose's face as she swept around the table and out the opposite door of the room. She soon returned with her dusty copy of _Peter and Wendy_ and then proceeded to hurl the book at him as he narrowly dodged it. "Here, bloody take this book as a farewell present! I kept it here waiting for you every day you didn't come! I hope you know what you're doing with your life, because it truly would be a shame if you stood in front of me, lying like you are, and sent me flying into the arms of another man!"

She kept the book near waiting for him to arrive? She had anticipated his company? This knowledge should've changed everything for the Doctor, but he neglected to draw on it. "Ms. Tyler, I apologise for-"

Rose shook her head, cutting him off, and pointed to the door of the room. "Get out, Dr. Smith. My father's not home. He'll ring you when he returns if you wanted to speak to him."

He wiped his face, frustrated. "No, that's not necessary."

"Alright, then I bid you a good day, then." Her arm returned to her side as she attempted to calm her tears.

Wretchedly looking to the floor beside him where her book laid in a crumbled mess, and then to Rose as she sporadically rubbed tears off her cheeks, all the Doctor wanted to do was rush to her side and relieve her of the pain he caused her from his untruths. But, what spurred him to sorely lie was the knowledge that Mr. Harkness was a man Pete agreed of, and a man that would give Rose the constancy she needed. Who would want to wed a middle-age librarian?

"I hope he takes you to Barcelona someday, and you have a fantastic time," he murmured before gently exiting the room and shutting the door behind himself.

From his side of the door, the Doctor rested his head against the frame and let out a disgruntled sigh. He was almost positive he heard her crying, but chose to ignore it regardless for the sake of them both (but mostly his pride).

#

When Pete and Jackie Tyler arrived back from the luncheon just before time for dinner, Rose was waiting on the sofa in the foyer, legs crossed and her foot lazily tapping the air. Her eyes closed resting; she was startled by the noise of the knob twisting and the door swinging open.

"Good lord, Pete, could you ever bother to open the door for me anymore? I was under the impression that I married a gentleman, but it would seem that was just something to get me in your bed." Jackie's voice cut across the open space as orange sunlight spread across the tiled floor.

Pete sighed and decided not to comment, partially because he never really argued back with Jackie anymore, and because he saw his daughter sitting on the sofa near the staircase seemingly having waited up for them. "Rose?" Pete tilted his head while shutting the door behind him and his wife. "What are you doing? Is something wrong?"

Rose only managed to clean a stoic face long enough for her to pitter-patter! across the floor and toss herself into her dad's surprised arms and begin to sniffle into his shoulder.

Her mum looked at her daughter and Pete in confusion. "Rosie? What's wrong? What the hell happened while we were gone?"

"I've lost one of my best mates, and I'll never see 'em again," she cried, her voice coming out muffled.

Both Pete and Jackie looked at one another in question, unaware that Rose had any sort of mates at all.

Later that hour, after carrying Rose upstairs and returning back down to fetch her dinner and have a house-maid bring it up to her room, Pete would find the old copy of _Peter and Wendy_ sitting on the sofa in the foyer, dust-less and wrinkle-free.

#

_Of course in the end Wendy let them fly away together. Our last glimpse of her shows her at the window, watching them receding into the sky until they were as small as stars._

Rose's hand reached over and touched the small illustrated Jane with pigtails as she floated in her bedroom as a laughing Peter and an interrupted Wendy stood beneath her. A smile spread across her face as she glimpsed back to the last paragraph of the text.

_As you look at Wendy you may see her hair becoming white, and her figure little again, for all this happened long ago. Jane is now a common grown-up, with a daughter called Margaret; and every spring-cleaning time, except when he forgets, Peter comes for Margaret and takes her to the Neverland, where she tells him stories about himself, to which he listens eagerly. When Margaret grows up she will have a daughter, who is to be Peter's mother in turn; and thus it will go on, so long as children are gay and innocent and heartless._

At times, Rose would feel a horrible melancholy for Peter, but then she would realise that she felt truly sorry for Wendy. While Peter would spend the rest of his life with new mates and new adventures, it was Wendy who had to grow up and leave him for good. It was an endless cycle, and if one left the other attempting to break the cycle, it would be even more painful for them all.

_Of course in the end Wendy let them fly away together._

That line brought Rose back to the previous paragraph as she intently studied everything about the two sentences there was to offer.

_Our last glimpse of her shows her at the window, watching them receding into the sky until they were as small as stars._

The hero really was Wendy, letting her daughter and Peter go off together, but painfully reminded of her own time with him. How could she let Jane go?

_'If only I could go with you,' Wendy sighed._

_If only_, Rose thought as the ending reminded her of the hero in the Doctor, for letting Rose go on adventures he believed he could not give her…and how silly that was. Why couldn't Wendy have gone with Peter? So she's a little big, and a little old, and perhaps has other responsibilities, but nothing was really stopping her from one last flight with Peter. One last adventure.

She gathered herself from her bed, laying the book down that her father had so graciously brought up with her dinner that sat on her table untouched, and began to pace fervidly. She'd have to tell the Doctor how she didn't care if he was a librarian, or that he was 23 years her senior, or that he didn't have as much money as other men, if those were the kinds of things holding him back from her.

Her pacing came to a sudden stop as she began to backtrack in her thoughts. What if she was being silly about thinking that that was _really_ what was keeping them from being together? His self-consciousness? Maybe he was telling the truth and she was just his best mate's daughter. How much a _fool _she would look running to him and attempting to coax him out of his shell.

Exhausted, and a bit hungry, Rose threw herself down onto her throw pillows with a sigh.

#

The following day, since books do not shelve themselves, the Doctor was high up on the third level of the reading room with a cart of books wedged between the shelves and the railings, finely trapping him from the staircase nearby that Donna Noble climbed up heatedly.

"What are you doing? I told you that I was gonna get those done myself. I feel like I haven't shelved in ages," she scolded him, a bit out of breath, once she had reached the top of the staircase.

"That's because you haven't," he lackadaisically jabbed, continuing to peel books off of the tin cart.

Resting her hands on her hips, she scrunched her nose up at him. "Oi, what's been up with you today? You seem rather gloomy, don't you?"

The Doctor only shrugged in response, drawing a frustrated breath from Donna.

"Is it something having to do with Rose?"

He blinked as he went on to shelve the rest of the books in his arms.

She dryly laughed. "I'll take that as a yes then. What'd you do?"

Ceasing his shelving, the Doctor turned his neck around to glare at Donna. "Why did you automatically assume it was something I did?"

Donna crossed her arms. "Because you don't exactly have the best marks with women, do you?"

"If you must know, Rose is now in a relationship with a man of her own age group and own class."

"You really think that matters to her, then?" she shook her head at him.

"No, but it's my job to make sure she ends up with the right bloke at the end of the day."

Scoffing, she replied: "You're thick if you think it's your job to control her life. You should kiss the ground she walks on for putting up with a daft bat like yourself instead of pushing her in a direction she doesn't want to go."

"She'd never be happy with me," the Doctor murmured, resting his head on the shelf.

Donna shrugged. "Now we'll never know then, I guess."

He turned his head towards her and scowled.

"You're pissed because I'm right, then."

"Yeah, you are," he sighed under his breath into the books on the shelf.

"So what are you gonna do about it?" she pressed on.

Straightening his back and putting on a neutral face, he picked up some more books from the cart and moved further along the rows to shelf them. "Well, first I'm going to shelf the rest of these books, and probably have some lunch from the restaurant. Perhaps a nice steak," he rambled distractedly.

"You're insufferable," Donna frowned before departing. "You deserve loneliness, John Smith," she called over her shoulder as she climbed down the stairs.

While he knew she didn't really mean that last comment, the Doctor could not help but feel like he truly did.


	6. A Metaphor for Run!

Listen to: "Rêverie" by Claude Debussy or "At the Jazz Band Ball" by Bix Beiderbecke

* * *

_**Chapter VI: A Metaphor for "Run!"**_

* * *

Rose would have normally thought it amusing and triumphant to sleuth out that her parents-and Jack-were throwing a surprise party that night (because her parents were always horrible at keeping things of the sorts from her, because what else would you need so many flowers for?) but this time around, she felt dispassionate towards it. The very last thing she wanted to do was put on her nicest frock and t-strap heels and dance to jazz music while sipping champagne. Just two days ago, she had had her heart ripped to pieces by the only man she had ever trusted with her entire mind (alright, her father didn't count), and now she was expected to be in a jovial mood at the fact that her parents were getting along so splendid with her beau that they decided to throw a party? It all made Rose want to never get out of her bed again because she couldn't help but wish the Doctor would show up.

Rolling her eyes at the noise of all of the bustling downstairs, Rose sliced through her omelette that sat on her ivory tray. Someone knocked on her door as she placed a bite in her mouth. Hurrying the chewing along, irritated, she swallowed and called: "Come in!"

The door opened just enough so a half-asleep Jackie could slink inside. "Oh, good, you're up," her mum whispered, closing the door shut behind her.

"I'm surprised _you're_ up," Rose snorted, going back to cutting her eggs.

"I couldn't bear sleeping so long today because they're just so much to do!" her mum clapped her hands giddily before a look of horror crossed her face and she hurriedly slapped a hand over her mouth, like a secret had just been spilled.

She sighed and set down her silverware. "Mum, I know about the party. No need for the acting."

Giving a grunt of frustration, Jackie Tyler hurried to the side of Rose's bed and perched herself on the edge. "How'd you know?"

Feeling rather cruel at eleven in the morning, she leaned in closely to her mother and hush-whispered: "I hear voices in the sunlight….voices I sometimes don't understand. They tell me things-things I would never have known without."

For the first few words Jackie listened, but as the joke progressed, she grew flustered. "Ugh, Rose! You have the same sense of humour as your father, and it's not funny, mind you!"

Rose gave out a sideways grin before taking another bite of her breakfast.

"Anywho's, since the cat's out of the bag, I might as well tell you now that the party starts at seven, and I want you to wear that one champagne-coloured dress I got you from Jeanne Lanvin-you know, the one with the dipped neckline and the gold sequins. That would look fabulous on you and I think Mr. Harkness would love you in that! Oh! That reminds me! He wanted it all to be a surprised, so please Rose, try your best to look surprised at the party, he fancies you so much. Your father gets along great with him, so it'd be a shame if you ran him off too. Oh, and then we have to talk about how I'm gonna do your hair. I was thinking either finger-waves or pinned back to let the lines of the dress show." Jackie paused for a moment to narrow her eyes at her daughter. "Rose, are you even listening to me? This is important."

She looked up from her plate and asked plainly: "Is Dr. Smith coming?"

Her mum let out a distracted sigh. "Why does that even matter? If your father invites him, that's his choice, but last time Dr. Smith came to a party he came two hours late and left after only an hour. I'm telling you, that man is a horrible guest to present in front of people."

Rose didn't reply, reaching down to fiddle with her napkin.

"I actually came up here to tell you you're secret is out, Miss Rosie!" Jackie squealed, merrily tapping Rose's shoulder.

Her head snapped up and her eyes grew just a bit wider than normal as her breathing slowed. "My secret?" she nervously asked, hoping she came across as nonchalant instead of coming across as someone hoping their parents did not discover their desire to be with a man of their parent's age.

"I know about you and Jack!" her mum replied, sing-song. "Don't worry, love, he didn't tell me. I'm just quick with that sort of stuff, if you couldn't already tell."

Rose let out an internal breath of relief, really not even minding the fact that her mum knew about herself and Mr. Harkness. She was indifferent about it all. "Oh, yes, we didn't want to make such a big deal about it, you know how it is," she shrugged.

"Well, I think it's ab-so-lute-ly **splendid**! This is what I've always wanted for you Rose! Think about all of the other men that you could've had if you'd opened your mind just a little! What I want to know though," her mother reclined back onto her elbow, "is what makes Mr. Harkness so different from the rest? Is it the American accent? Or maybe the sparkling blue eyes? Oh! I know: the suits! It must be the suits! He needs to kiss the feet of his tailor, because they have really cast a great gift upon him!"

Smirking at the way her mother chose to answer her own question, Rose commented dully: "Yes, that must be it."

Jackie looked over to the opposite side of Rose and snatched up the copy of _Peter and Wendy_ that laid half-way tucked underneath her pillow. "Oi! I haven't seen this book in years! Did you get it down from the attic?"

Rose moved her tray from her lap to her bedside table, her eyes staying on the book her mother examined in her hands. "Yes, I…I wanted to read it. You know, for nostalgia's sake I suppose."

Looking at the cover of the book with a keen fondness, Mrs. Tyler smiled. "Good lord, we had _some_ memories with this book, didn't we?"

Rose looked away sharply and said dolefully: "Yes, we did."

#

The clock struck half two when a call rang in at the Doctor's desk, interrupting him from his tenth round of magic squares. Keeping his pencil in his ear and his cigarette in his mouth, the Doctor set down his pad of paper and reached for the receiver on the stick phone.

"This is Dr. John Smith at the reading room of the British Museum, how may I help you?" he spoke into the mouth piece, rather disinterested, while juggling the cigarette in his teeth.

Through the ear piece, he heard a quick cackling and then the sharp, distinctive, voice of Pete Tyler. "Oi, mate, how're you doing this fine afternoon?"

A sad smile spread across his face as he took the cigarette out of his mouth and leaned in closer to the transmitter. "I'm doing well, just in the middle of some work," the Doctor eyed his unfinished magic square as he put out his cigarette in his ashtray.

"Well, I hope you're not too busy, because I think myself and my daughter would really fancy if you swung by at around seven for a surprise party for her."

Rose wanted him to come to a party, with her at it? Well, Pete did say it was a surprise party, meaning Pete was assuming Rose would want him there, when in actuality the last time he saw her she hurled a book at his head and told him it was a farewell present. "Yeah, mate," he shook his head and grabbed the stick so he could lean back in his office chair, "I don't think I'm available tonight, sorry."

"Oh, it's fine, John, I'm sure my wife would prefer that anyhow, no offence," Pete chuckled. "I'll ring you later then, bye."

The Doctor heard the click of the switch as Pete disconnected from the network. After setting his own ear phone on the hook, he buried his face in hands.

#

"See, doesn't that look just a-dor-a-ble with those ankle straps! You look so mature! Oo, Rose, Mr. Harkness is gonna just fall head over heels for you, if he hasn't already!" Jackie gushed from Rose's side as they both stood in front of Jackie's floor to ceiling mirror in her en-suite. Rose wore the champagne dress her mother picked out for her with black pumps and an engraved bronze pocket-watch necklace (with no sentimental value, akin to the majority of the things at the Tyler estate); her mother wore a surprisingly age appropriate halter frock with a sash neckline.

"Can you do my hair?" Rose asked politely, thinking her mother's enthusiasm about her hair would cheer her up a bit, but it didn't.

"Oh, I am so happy you asked! I found this wonderful haircomb that would look so exotic with a side twist!"

She only feebly smiled in response, half listening to her mum/half in a daze.

"And by the way, your father told me that he rang his mate Dr. Smith a couple of hours ago and he said he was busy and couldn't make it, and boy, am I relieved. I couldn't bear another party where his impoliteness made me and your father look ill. But, of course your father doesn't care, _no_ he thinks Dr. Smith is just the _best_ bloke around. If I was him, I would have cut my losses _ages_ ago," her mum rambled, grabbing pins and brushes from the bath counter.

She couldn't help but shake her head at the fact that the Doctor had refused to attend the party. She knew he would have never with the row they got into, but there was a part of her that hoped, despite everything she told him, he would have come anyways. So with the knowledge that he most certainly was not coming, she turned her mind's attention towards making sure she would not lose Jack Harkness by doing something she would have done to the previous suitors. "You think Jack will look handsome tonight, mum?" Rose attempted to engage.

"Oh, do I?! He'll probably be wearing something…"

With the sufficient prodding of her mother's tedious habit of talking in a long-winded manner, Rose let her voice fade as she let Jackie guide her to the stool by the sink and fix her hair and make-up.

#

At the end of his work day, the Doctor strolled by the lines of reading desks to the front information table, where Donna was tidying up her space by stacking miscellaneous books.

"Hey you. Haven't seen you in a couple of hours," she noted casually, not looking up from her stacking, after he approached her.

"Been busy," he shrugged, sticking his hands in his trench pockets.

Donna let out a quick laugh. "Oh yeah, sure. Magic boxes sure is hard work."

"Magic _squares_," he corrected her.

Looking up at him from behind the counter, she let out a sigh before giving him a smile that begged 'please help me' as she thumped! a stack of books onto the top of the counter. "John, if you could-"

He swiftly swiped the small stack off and proceeded to walk off, giving her a quick "yeah, yeah" over his shoulder.

"Thank you!" Donna called after him.

Muttering under his breath, he began to sift through the few books in his hands, observing where in the library he needed to advance to in order to shelve the books. When he placed the very last book on top of the stack to look at the title, he immediately ceased his commute, blankly staring at the title.

_Barcelona_

_A Guide to the City of Counts_

Turning on his heel and quickly rushing back to the counter, he continued to keep his gaze on the book with a fierce intent. "Donna….who read this book about Barcelona?"

She snorted and turned around to give the Doctor a funny look. "That's an odd question, even for you. I was just looking at the pictures," she replied defensively. "Don't really have much to do around here, you know."

He met Donna's eyes in a frenzy. "Is it beautiful there?"

"John," she dryly laughed, tilting her head in bafflement, "You've been. You know what it looks like."

"No," he shook his head, setting the stack of books on the desk and pointing to the cover of the book on Barcelona. "Were the pictures in this book beautiful?"

She shrugged. "I dunno, I guess. You're acting rather funny, John."

Blindingly, he began to pat on his trench coat. "Do you have the time? I need the time. I need to know what time it is," he digressed.

Taken aback from his frantic behaviour, Donna kept a careful eye on him as she brought her arm up to take a quick peek at her watch. "It's just now seven."

"Seven?! I've got to run!" Dr. Smith belted before quickly speeding off in a whirlwind.

Donna turned and watched his figure disappear from the reading room, her eyebrows furrowed. "What the bloody hell?" She shook her head and reached forward to take the stack of books, along with the book on Barcelona, and went to shelve them herself.

#

The normalcy for a party at the Tyler estate included no less than fifty or so guests, a jazz combo, a nauseating amount of flowers, servers carrying around amuse-bouches with glasses of wine and carting around plates of entrées, a decent sized dance floor with wealthy guests waltzing and twirling in flashy gold and silver, and an open bar off to the side of the patio venue where Rose was keen to hover with shots of Irish whiskey. She had not the faintest idea on why her parents always assumed their "surprise parties" were kept well under wraps with the effort made by all of the coordinators. Yet, even though she told her mother that she was well aware of the secret, she still had to act bewildered when Rose's mum led her out to the patio with Rose's eyes covered to be revealed to a group of strangers, her dad with a cigar and a tumbler of brandy, and an ecstatic Mr. Harkness with a wide grin on his face.

"I had no idea," Rose shook her head with a forced smile when Jack approached her after the celebration had calmed down and most of the guests sat at tables speaking quietly to one another while sipping glasses of wine and flutes of champagne.

"Good, I loved seeing your face! I told you the next time we saw each other it would be a surprise!" he laughed.

She tried her best to look enthusiastic about it all, as she did as she followed Jack around the patio as he chatted with the majority of the guests (Jackie made sure to never stray further than hearing range). He was so personable, learning quickly everyone's name and occupation, and he had the affinity for speaking so confidently on every subject imaginable whether that be the economy, sports, or even fashion to Rose's surprise.

Jack and Rose finally sat down at the bar when the seven man band began to play the instrumental to "Chinatown, My Chinatown", the trombone popping each and every note cheerfully. "Are you having fun?" he asked her, leaning closely against her.

Truthfully, she was having a horrible time. She thought that when she saw Jack he would have been able to cheer her spirits up, but she felt more terrible than before-Jack an aching reminder of her row with the Doctor. "Of course, the lights are always so scenic," Rose commented, pointing up to the jasmine canopy above them, glittering with strings of light bulbs and rows of white honeysuckle vines.

Only bothering to glance up at the lights in favour of gazing at Rose's face he replied: "Yes, everything is so beautiful." Jack reached up to poke the gold hair comb in her blonde hair, grinning. "That's fun."

Rose sheepishly touched the hair piece that linked all the way to a cuff on her ear, saying: "My mum picked it out."

He shook his index finger at her for emphasis. "Ah, now that makes sense."

Letting out a small laugh, Rose brushed some of her hair out of her eyes, slowly feeling a bit more comfortable.

Knowing that his humour was aiding her to loosen up, Jack hush-whispered: "I think your mum's getting a bit tipsy." He discreetly directed her attention to Jackie, only a few metres away sitting at a table facing the pair, looking wobbly with three empty flutes of champagne in front of her.

"She's always been a bit of a light-weight," she chuckled in response.

"I feel for your dad, then, Rose Tyler."

She inwardly grimaced at the use of her name, caused from a fresh wave of sadness and unexpected guilt from thoughts of Dr. Smith. To further complications, Jack thought it appropriate to take the opportunity of the intimate setting to lightly feather a kiss on her cheek, giving her a warm smile afterwards.

"You look spectacular tonight," Jack stated with a twinkle in his eye.

With poignant eyes, Rose mumbled a thank you to him.

Sufficiently ill at ease now from the gloomy reaction from Rose, he refused to give up on her, making it his mission to perk her up. "Would you care to dance and show all of these stiffs how it's done?" he proposed, raptly waiting for her response.

She almost let a disappointed sigh escape when she looked up into his eyes and told him yes.

Seeing the couple approach the dance floor, the band mates gestured for a quick song transition into "At the Jazz Band Ball", a song more fit for upbeat dancing. Jack offered Rose his hand which she took, grasping it as he placed his other on her waist and she placed her other on his shoulder. Still continuing to look exultant, he led her around in a tight circle, unable to move much from other couples.

In the back of the room, Rose's mum spotted that the pair had migrated to the dancing space, rushing as fast as she could to grab a seat near them in order to watch closely with a contented look on her face (Rose noted how Jackie made sure to take two flutes of champagne from a passing server on the way).

While Jack and Rose danced, she noticed how most of the party-goers around her kept their eyes fixed on the two of them, admiring the way she began to smile at Jacks' sure-fire pep in his step and his charismatic, easy-going way of waltzing her around. When he unexpectedly twirled her a bit faster, she couldn't help but let out a loud laugh and playfully slap his shoulder saying: "This isn't figure skating, Jack."

Once the song commenced, the band easily transitioned into "Rêverie", sending the rest of the band members-bar the piano-and the dancers back to the tables for a change in activity. So, after clapping at the end of the first piece, Rose followed Jack closely as they went to sit down in the empty seats beside her mother.

She quickly grew tired from the dancing, and her heart-rate slowed at the sound of the gentle key strokes from the piano playing the lullaby.

"You two looked stunning up there!" Jackie acknowledged to her and him.

"Well, I was with a great partner," he turned to give Rose an agreeable face.

Her mum gently patted her leg underneath the tablecloth. "Rosie's never looked happier!"

Vaguely hearing the conversation transpiring between the two, Rose rested her head on her hand, feeling clouded. The piano grew louder, and then almost as fast, grew to a faint whisper with the dynamics of the song.

"Rose was actually telling about how you picked out her hair comb."

"Oh, yes! That was me! Doesn't it look so pretty with her colour of hair?"

The melancholic notes only aided Rose as she could still see the trail of freckles across the bridge of the Doctor's nose, if she focused on it enough, imagining what they'd look like underneath the canopy and lights.

"Of course it did! Mrs. Tyler, you have splendid taste!"

"Why thank you, Jack!"

And then there were his brown sideburns that transitioned into stubble across his lower cheek and jaw, then going even further onto the upper neck.

"Oi, Jackie, guess who I just saw!"

"Ugh, Pete, I thought you were aways taking a smoke or something with your mates. I'm trying to talk to your daughter and her _handsome_ boyfriend."

He had such thin lips but she remembered how when she snogged him she didn't even notice because, _good lord_, he was so warm and inviting and positively….fantastic.

"Well, I was walking back outside from going out front to take a smoke because I got rather parched and-"

"Bloody hell, Pete! Does this story ever have an ending?!"

Rose inwardly laughed at the image popping up of the Doctor in his iconic trench, and she couldn't decide whether or not she fancied it or wanted to tear it off him (in what manner would the tearing would take place was unknown to her as well).

"Bollocks! I'm getting to it! Don't get in a huffy now! Well, as I was saying, John showed up! How great is that?! I patted him on the shoulder but he seemed rather busy, that bloke. And then after barely stepping foot outside, he suddenly turns around and rushes right back off, without even a word goodbye!"

John? Did her dad mean _her_ John? The John who was the Doctor: the Doctor who was the definition of familiarity, the Doctor who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, traveling the globe and seeing places her mum would never step foot in, the Doctor who she trusted with all of her thoughts and wishes and desires.

The man Rose loved.

"I told you that one was always off, didn't I?! He's always been predictable!"

"Jesus Christ, Jackie, I came over here to tell you that you were right and you still continue to act ill! I can't win with you, can I?"

Sitting up straight in her chair she looked up at her dad who stood in between herself and her mother. "Wait, dad, Dr. Smith was here?"

"Yeah, like I just said, he ran out like there was a fire or something equally as peculiar," Pete shook his head, recalling the events.

"And this all happened just now?" Rose stressed, her heart pounding nearly in her throat so loudly she could hear it beating in the back of her mind.

"Well, a few minutes ago, why do you-" Pete started only to be interrupted as she unexpectedly pushed her chair back and scurried through the door into the house as fast as her pumps could carry her.

"Rose!" Jackie clamoured after her. "Where are you going?!"

Mr. Harkness twisted around in his seat and surveyed with a small smirk on his lips as Rose as she disappeared. She had finally run to the Doctor, and surprisingly, Jackie would be more upset about it than Jack.


	7. Rose

Listen to: "The Girl with the Flaxen Hair" by Claude Debussy or "Pretty Face" by Soley

* * *

_**Chapter VII: Rose**_

* * *

Stepping out of the muggy taxi and taking in the cooler air, the Doctor took in a deep breath before bending back around to thank the taximan for his service.

The Tyler estate was lit up magnificently in the late dusk of the evening. Every window seemed to be aglow, illuminating the roundabout that was littered with automobiles in front of the open front door. Music was heard in echoes from behind the mansion: waves of brass and drum. The sound of the leaves of the trees lining the outskirts of the residence rustling in the wind soothed his nerves quite, allowing him to shake off any hesitation or reluctance to storm the party in search for whom he now considered as the love of his life.

The feelings he had for Rose were something he could only define as the feeling somebody would have if they ever experienced a fantastic book, and in this book they could not pick out their favourite line or their favourite moment because if they did they wouldn't be able to give all of the rest of the lines or moments the proper recognition they deserved because, unabashedly, the book was the best book they had ever read and no other book could compare. Over time, they would read hundreds and hundreds more books, just like before they experienced the special one, but everything after would seem so dull and undistinguished: an anticlimax from the one they cared for the most.

So, he ventured through the front door and down the hallways to the back, in search for the one book that he wanted to re-read for the rest of his life, with not even the faintest consideration or contemplation to read anything else.

The feeling of someone clapping him on the back did not faze him as he shakily searched the mass of well-dressed guests for the blonde hair and wide smile he had grown devoted to. "Hey mate, did you not hear me? I guess the music is a bit too loud. I thought you said you couldn't come! I'm glad you've made it!"

And there she was, in front of the band, dancing crazily with the Mr. Harkness fellow along with the music of the jazz combo. He spun her around rapidly and the already wide smile on her face grew and she began to laugh, hitting at him lightheartedly-making the Doctor's heart sink. When Rose leaned in closely to her handsome boyfriend to say something the Doctor's jaw locked and he turned on the balls of his feet-barely recognizing or acknowledging Pete Tyler-and speeding off down the way he had just come.

She had looked so splendid in that shimmery colour she was wearing with such a fitting man on her arm-a man that wasn't him-and all he could think about now was whether or not the taxicab would still be in the driveway so he wouldn't have to swallow his pride and go back into the party to ask for a phone. Why hadn't he asked the cab to wait again?

It all became a fast blur as he thundered down the steps to find that yes in fact, his cab was still in the driveway by some sort of miracle. How long had he been in the house? It had felt like the longest drawn out moment of his life: sprinting to a party to tell the woman of his dreams that he loved her, a party in which he knew would feature her boyfriend in a fancy suit and perfectly groomed hair.

As he opened the door to the car after rapping on the driver window to let the bloke know he was back, he heard a shout that he would debate whether or not was his favourite line for the rest of his life. "Doctor! I love you!"

His heart thudded to swift halt as he turned his head to see Rose Tyler standing on the top step of the house, peering across the distance at him in the dark. The music from the party had grown faint, having been replaced by something he could only faintly register.

In shock of what he was witnessing he closed the cab door, most likely irritating the waiting driver, and slowly wandered past all of the parked automobiles and hedges and flower beds to stand at the bottom of the steps of the house. "You what?" he murmured, searching her taut face for any sort of hint of what was happening.

"I said that I love you and no one else. Not ever. It's always been you." Her hand nervously quivered by her side.

"But Mr. Harkness, he's good for you," the Doctor protested rather reluctantly, looking away.

She shook her head and let her voice rise. "I don't give a damn about him because I know that you love me too."

Silence wafted over the two as the faint "Rêverie" came to a soft ending and moved into another Debussy piece: "The Girl with the Flaxen Hair".

"What if I did love you?" he finally spoke. "What would you do?"

The edges of Rose's mouth quivered up into a small smile. "I'd ask you to take me to Barcelona in the spring when it's not too hot or not to cold."

Laughing from the sheer joy at Rose's statement, a statement truly recognizing her love for him, he bounded up the few steps separating them and kissed her without a second's hesitation.

Rose became disappointed when the Doctor broke their pithy kiss to stare at her with a mad smile on his face, but she was only thwarted briefly because he cupped the side of her face in his hand and kissed her once again, this time even more confident, running his tongue over her upper lip. She opened her mouth and gave out enough room so he could dip his tongue inside, letting him warm her mouth from the inside out.

Dragging her hands from the bend of his back to his shoulders slowly and leisurely, she felt the way his back curved and straightened though the fabric of his trench coat. Rose let out a sigh as she tilted her head, contorting her body even closer to his, as the Doctor's tongue freely roamed the inside of her mouth.

The Doctor brought his tongue out so he could begin to move his lips against hers once again, replanting them in a fury time and time again.

"John," she murmured hotly upon his lips.

When he began to nibble gently on her lower lip with his front teeth, she gasped in gratification, twisting her fingers rather roughly into the hair on the back of his head. "_Doctor_," Rose groaned.

The Doctor was responded to his title more than his name-taking a risk by settling his hands that were previously on her lower back to the top of her bum, dragging her in even closer to him.

Rose giggled at that from her place against his mouth, not because it was humorous, but because she suddenly became quite aware of what they were doing on her parents' front steps.

Becoming self-conscious at the risk he took-feeling silly that it did not pay off as he thought-he broke apart from her, asking a question he thought he already knew the answer to: "What?"

She shook her head, still giggling, letting her fingers thread together against the nape of his neck. "It's just weird, snogging you in front of my house and all. I mean, who would have thought I'd be with my dad's best mate?"

The Doctor painfully winced at the remembrance of Pete, and oh lord, he was feeling up Pete's daughter on Pete's steps in front of Pete's house where Pete was just on the patio, probably wondering where Pete's daughter was. _Pete's daughter_. God, but Rose wasn't Pete's daughter to him at all. Pete's daughter was still in primary school with ruffles and bows and dolls and toys. No, _Rose_ was nineteen and had nice legs and a friendly smile and smelled like fresh linen and lilacs, and suddenly the Doctor didn't care anymore about the past-only the present: the present in which involved Rose biting her lip and looking up at him expecting him to respond to her rhetorical question. "Who would have thought that a librarian would have ended up with the most beautiful woman in the entire universe, and had her all to himself?"

Gently squeezing the Doctor's shoulder happily, Rose grinned and peered at him through hooded eyelids. "I have somewhere I want you to be right now, with me."

He quickly began to fret. What did she mean by that? Where did she mean by that? The party? Where her mum and Pete and her boyfriend were? Did she want to go parading in there and try to prove a point? Images of him being pummeled to the ground by her dad and date flashed in the back of his mind. "Are you sure?" he attempted to ask, levelly,

"Yes," she breathed looking deeply into his eyes as she reached down to take his hand from her bum and thread her fingers into his. "Follow me."

The two treaded quietly through the front door and foyer, past the stairs, heading in the direction of the back patio. Along the way, Rose was certain to keep alert, turning her head in numerous directions to assure her that they were not being observed.

The Doctor realised that he hadn't heard music from the party since the end of the piano solo seconds before a loud blast of clarinet and drum set caused the pair to jump metres off the ground, startled. A loud gasp from Rose was followed steadily by a round of horribly suppressed giggles as she turned to look at the ashen look on his face. "Oh lord, you look like you just had a heart attack," she choked out through her laughter, patting him reassuringly on the arm.

"Not funny," he scolded, clutching his heart dramatically with his other hand and letting out a sigh of relief.

"Come on," she said after regaining composure.

He became very confused when as they neared the back door, she swung a right and opened a side door, revealing a very narrow servant staircase. "Rose?" he whispered, halting his walking to blankly gape at the staircase.

Rose turned and gave him a worried look. "Where did you think we were going?"

"Well…the party," he mumbled, obviously very much incorrect.

"I was taking you to my bedroom, but I guess that we can go back to the party then," her voice nearly became silent by the end of her sentence as Rose became more and more self-conscious.

Her bedroom? She wanted to…her and him…and her bedroom? She couldn't? Could she? The Doctor was aware of the trend of casual sex, but he never viewed Rose as the type of person to participate in such…unless she was truly positive of her feelings for him: something that hardened him in his decision. "I didn't think that you would have ever wanted to be with me tonight, like that," he explained, praying that she hadn't just then changed her mind because he was a daft prick.

"Well, I'd very much like to be with you, if you'd permit."

The Doctor opened his mouth at first to answer, but hastily chose to instead catch her completely off guard by grabbing her hand and rushing up the stairs, dragging her along until her feet found their own pace and began the dash along with him.

"I'll take that as a yes," she giggled as they rapidly ascended the dimly lit staircase.

The two were in a state of merriment as they rushed through the second floor hallway leading towards her bedroom, Rose still giggling uncontrollably at the marvel of the situation that felt so much like a daydream.

"Alright," the Doctor spoke, turning around to look down at Rose in the glow of the wall lamps. "Are you still certain?"

"For once, I want to do something out of the ordinary. Something so spectacular that every boring day I sit downstairs staring at the wallpaper will seem even more torturous than before," she firmly answered him. "Now, open that door, Doctor."

Grabbing onto the door handle behind him, the Doctor grinned out, "I'll take that as a yes," before swinging the door open and tugging her inside with him.

After kicking the door shut with her heel, Rose felt herself being planted against the door before her lips made rough, ardent, contact with the Doctor's. His fingers dug into her shoulders as his mouth moved against hers, rapidly turning and adapting to make every second different from the previous.

After a few minutes of heated snogging, Rose became impatient and took the Doctor's hands with her own and guided them to her lower back.

He took the hit at progression with a grin, taking hold of her back so her own hands could grab his upper arms. The Doctor then broke away from her lips only to migrate his down Rose's jawline and further to the pulse-point on her neck, where he latched on and began to gently nip and suck at the skin.

"Oh god," she breathed out, letting her eyes flutter shut as his tongue darted out and brushed the skin her neck. Shivers crawled up her arms and legs. "Doctor, I need you."

Parting her neck with a farewell kiss, he then gave Rose a confident smirk. "Impatient are we, Ms. Tyler?"

"Oi, don't start playing that game with me. I'll rip your pants off," she quipped before roughly dragging his face down upon hers by the lapels of his trench coat. Rose kissed him forcefully for a few moments before breaking apart from him and tugging on the fabric of his coat. "Don't you ever take this thing off?"

"I'll make an exception for you, Rose Tyler," he said as he stripped himself of the trench and threw it haphazardly across the moonlit room-it landing with a soft swoosh!.

Without a second's hesitation, she immediately reached and began to unbutton his brown suit jacket. "I still cannot believe you turned up to the party dressed like this," she teased as she had a bit of trouble with seeing the second button in the near darkness.

"Well, by the time I realized that I needed to attend, I didn't really have a spare tick to dash home and grab my good tuxedo," the Doctor ribbed, aiding Rose in the rest of the buttons on the jacket.

"About the party," she grew serious, halting her movements on his jacket. "I completely forgot about how I ran out leaving no sort of explanation for where I was going."

The Doctor nodded and began to fix his disarrayed jacket. "Right, I must have gotten carried away. We should go back downstairs and-"

"No," Rose interrupted, knocking his hands away and ushering his jacket off of his shoulders. "I was just proposing that we shag right quick then hurry back down." She enticingly dropped the Doctor's suit jacket on the floor and peered at him as she waited for him to respond.

He gaped at her for a few moments before quickly loosening his tie, tossing on top of the jacket. "Don't worry about quick, I'm uncertain if I can even make it another twenty ticks," he gasped, unbuttoning his blue dress shirt.

Rose let out a wide smile. She grabbed his hand and the two scurried to her canopy bed. She and the Doctor leapt onto the mattress, Rose then beginning to take off her pumps as he toed off his loose trainers and let them plop! onto the floor. "We don't have enough time to take off anything else," she murmured disappointedly.

"Don't worry," the Doctor sat up in the bed and moved to grab Rose's hand, "I'll make up for it later."

She nodded enthusiastically before he once again fastened his lips onto her neck, making her gasp. Rose turned, making him break away from actions, so she could situate herself on top of him-straddling him.

"You're so attractive in these," Rose murmured, lightly touching the end pieces of his spectacles. "I've never seen you without them, even when I was a little girl."

"Tip, Rose Tyler, never bring up how a man's known you since you were in nappies while trying to get him to make love to you," the Doctor laughed, shifting his hips underneath Rose slightly as even despite what she said his pants became tighter on him.

She could have sworn her eyes crossed at the feeling of him from underneath her. "Well, since you're the only man that your tip fits, it doesn't do me any good now, now does it?" she joked.

The Doctor gave her a smile. "Perhaps not."

Rose began to hitch up her dress along with her Bramley corsele. "Now, let's make this quick. We're gonna have to do this fast. Are you ready?"

Eyes immediately going to her suggestive movements, he replied tightly: "I believe I am."

She rolled her eyes at him because she could feel that he was quite ready on her bare thigh. "You better thank my mum for not forcing me into a corset, because this would not be possible." Rose reached down between them and unbuttoned the Doctor's trousers.

Wishing dearly that he could see anything other than Rose's silhouette in the dark, the Doctor let out a low moan at the feeling of Rose's fingertips along his groin. "_Rose_, god. Yes, I don't particular believe that I will be able to look either of your parents in the eye after this."

Impatiently, she reached her hand into the Doctor's trousers and took hold of him through his underpants causing the Doctor to groan louder this time and rest his head on Rose's chest. Biting her lip, she moved her fingers to the waistband of his pants, pulling them down and therefore, letting him free.

He took both of her hands and held them in his as she situated herself carefully over him. "Cough when it goes in, Rose. It won't feel as-" The Doctor was abruptly cut off as Rose sank down on top of him. He hissed sharply and twisted his eyes shut at the feeling of her tightly around him.

Rose's face scrunched up in pain as her legs began to quiver. She let out short breaths, trying to numb the sharp sting that had entered her.

When he felt Rose's legs begin to shake, he knew that she hadn't expected the pain to be as dreadful as everyone had described. "Oh, Rose, I'm sorry," the Doctor whispered, taking his head off of her chest and clutching her cheek with the palm of his hand.

She annoyingly swatted away his hand and trembled: "I'm fine. We need to make this quick."

He shook his head. "No, I won't do anything until you don't hurt anymore. Whether or not we're in here for another two seconds or ten days doesn't matter at all to me. We'll wait until you're ready."

Despite the still aching twinge around the area that felt as though was stretching her inside to out, she forced a smile on her face. "See? I'm ready. Allons-y!"

Glancing down to her shaking legs straddling him, "Rose, you-"

Once again, she interrupts him by rising up and forcefully sliding back down, making him growl low in the back of his throat.

Rose leaned in closely to his ear and whispered: "Make love to me, Doctor."

The warmth from her breath on his upper neck created a shiver that ran down his body. Through gritted teeth, he replied: "You are making it very hard for me to remain gentle."

Violently biting his ear, she then smirked. "Good."

So, as the dim light from the moon streamed into the room of white, the Doctor's control snapped and he flipped the two of them over and began to push himself in and out of Rose at a quick pace. His eyes stayed focused on her face as she gritted her teeth and let her hands twist the sheets into knots.

"God," Rose let out, face flushed, as in one particular stroke he brushed up against a part of her that made her want to scream his name so loudly, her mum and dad would hear.

"_Rose_," he breathed out sharply, already close to spending himself.

And in that one moment, everything he did and didn't say was so clear to her, so she replied with a smile on her lips: "I love you too."


	8. Epilogue

Listen to: "Lux Aurumque" by UNLV Wind Orchestra or "English Folk Song Suite: Movement II" by Ralph Vaughan Williams

* * *

_**Epilogue**_

* * *

The rose and the tender grew together,

Seeing the sunlight and wishing for forever.

As the green grew and moved further,

The wind whisking like a murmur,

They the land guided across.

Yet, the tender and his flower were mislead,

Only to be brought back together wed,

Their kindness and love the Earth's moss.

The rose taught him how to project,

And the tender taught her how to interject-

With guidance akin to both in all respect.

The ending having come quick and swift,

The cut buoy setting them adrift.

The rose soared oh so high,

Neglecting to see the tender sigh.

He became old and withered, forgotten to her,

So she eventually ran to him, not to let him suffer-

Not to let the tender forget her smile or her grace.

The garden blossomed beneath his feet,

Books stacked high next to the bench, orderly and neat;

She read an adventure or two, so content in their place.

He would depart without his rose:

The blossom that became the tender's repose,

Still in the daylight that shone and glittered for those.

So, a simple and modest end is always the best,

Finishing with departure: a death laid their rest.

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much to whoever stayed with this story long enough to finish! I bless each and every reader! I wrote this poem with inspiration from John Donne.

This poem is the only way I could wrap up this unique fanfiction that touched my heart so deeply.

LLAP.


End file.
